Pathways
by RasberryGirl
Summary: Vulcan bonds must be consciously and carefully formed between mates while they are both in a healthy state of mind. Spock and Nyota learn the hard way why this is so important. Post-movie S/U story. Part 8: Healers
1. Prologue

**Pathways: Part 1/10**

Disclaimer: Don't own them

A/N: This ties to an earlier story called "Impasse" but you definitely don't have to read that to get this. This is also not an origins fic, though the prologue is a cliff notes version of a possible S/U beginning. :) Nothing helps order my scattered ideas like reviews do. Good or bad, they inspire, guide and help keep the procrastination under control! Thanks for reading.

* * *

**Prologue**

**Steps  
**

_Beneath her, he was beginning to come apart. He couldn't resist it anymore. The long fingers he had fisted in her hair relaxed and slid down the side of her face, resting on meld points he had never connected with. _

_Uhura grabbed his hand. She froze, ignoring her own body's demand for release and whispered against his parted lips, "Spock, no." _

_*  
_

"Commander! Commander Spock, hold on."

The Vulcan's even stride did not slow in the least, but he also didn't protest when 1st year Cadet Uhura met his pace. The Academy's main quad thrummed with a type of energy that only came at the end of each term. Cadets poured from every exit of the buildings, swarming and scattering in the general direction of the dormitories. While most of her contemporaries were no doubt focused on finalizing plans for transport to their respective homelands, Spock predicted the human female beside him was focused on an entirely different issue.

"How may I assist you, cadet?"

"My research paper," she said immediately, lifting the graded PADD between them, "I thought I had fulfilled every component of the outlined rubric and yet I received a B+."

"As I evaluated the document personally, there is no need to reiterate what I am already quite aware of. Good day cadet."

If he had not been squarely focused on the wide, angular path before them, Spock might have caught the flash of frustration across Nyota Uhura's otherwise neutral expression.

She cleared her throat. "Commander, a moment of your time. Please."

They stopped walking and simultaneously turned to face each other.

Spock admittedly knew nothing of this cadet outside of his classroom but was not unaware that the apathy he felt was mutual. Upon his refusal, she had successfully appealed to the department head in order to gain acceptance into the Advanced Romulan seminar he taught every spring—a course which regularly challenged the fleet's brightest 2nd and 3rd year prospective communications officers and often crippled those on other career tracks.

Uhura's linguistic and intellectual aptitudes in general eventually proved to justify her place in the course, but now he wondered what could possibly come from anything she had to say to him now that the term was over. A smaller part of him was almost curious.

"How may I assist you," Spock commanded more than asked this time.

"I know you must be dying to get off this campus. I don't blame you. I just--" she paused, tilting her head to the side as she released a small breath. Her hair swayed across her uniform-clad shoulders in the lukewarm wind. "Commander, I'd like to thank you for your careful and consistently honest evaluations of my work. Regardless of our previous disagreements I know I didn't deserve a higher mark on this final."

Despite the gross exaggeration of her former statement, Spock's curiosity was now fully engaged. They continued down the emptying walkway at an almost comfortable pace.

"Last night something began to bother me about the assignment...this feeling that there may have been something off," she began. "After my roommate and I got back in I finally just broke down and re-read my duplicate copy. It was the section on--"

"The sociological significance of the variances between the first and second Romulan dialects," Spock finally spoke up, returning the short nod of a passing officer. "Yes. A well-organized, logically argued portion of your paper..."

"...which had a really obnoxious oversight."

She slipped the PADD into her canvas bag and sighed. "I can't believe I substituted the Romulan prefix for "socio-" with "psycho-" twice, much less in the same paragraph."

"Page sixteen, paragraph three, lines two and four," he elucidated. "As these terms are nearly identical when conveyed in written Romulan, I nearly overlooked the errors myself. Unfortunately for you I did not."

This time, Spock didn't miss the undeniable emotion written across Uhura's face.

"Not unfortunate for me, sir. A hard lesson maybe. After all, small mistakes can make a huge difference when I'm translating subspace signals aboard the _Enterprise_ one day," she said as her embarrassed smile gradually softened into a genuine one.

Spock slowly looked away from her as they continued to walk. He had never noticed how bright and straight and well-proportioned to her facial dimensions her teeth were. Nor the effect their natural luminosity created upon the contrast with her smooth complexion. When she smiled at him he could literally see the vitality radiating within her being

With a minute tilt of his head, he realized he approved of this. It meant she would be at a lower risk for developing troublesome and sometimes fatal diseases related to poor health...which would no doubt impede her academic progress.

"Your appreciation is duly noted, cadet," he intoned and paused to face her again. "I am afraid I have much to accomplish. Dismissed."

"Have a nice summer, Commander."

"Likewise," he replied.

But she had already turned on her heel, purposefully making her way back towards the dormitories in the late afternoon sunshine.

**Connections**

"_Nyota," he murmured, grateful for her order. His body tensed, feeling every tremor underneath the dewy soft skin pressed against and surrounding his. _

_She was threatening to pull him over the edge with her.  
_

_*  
_

"So, I was surprised you agreed to come tonight, Spock. I thought for sure you'd give the old excuse about requiring extended meditation after another long term. Not that I blame you...suppose I was mistaken," the middle-aged captain quietly remarked at his young colleague's answering silence.

Spock's attention was riveted to the wide, softly lit stage in front of and far below them.

The twenty-four interspecies members of Starfleet Academy's Chorale were engaged in their second and final contribution to the institution's December Arts Festival. Their all-black uniforms in lieu of regulation burgundy seemed strangely appropriate considering the melancholic harmonies they were creating. Their blended voices ebbed and flowed with a focused precision, surging suddenly only to retreat just as quickly. They were not a single entity and yet the powerful aural vibration rolling forth from them was sharp in its singularity. Echoes swelled from every corner of the otherwise silent auditorium, ringing loudly in his sensitive ears before settling to a dull roar.

Soon, the all-encompassing emotion projecting from the cadets and every seated being surrounding Spock in the balcony became almost stifling. The effect stirred something foreign in him...uncomfortable and disproportionately strong. Odd.

"This selection is most perplexing," Spock muttered under his breath. He was a statue in his chair.

Ever mindful of the captive audience, Pike leaned in a bit closer to him and agreed, "Strange choice of music for a holiday concert, that's for certain. Some people are depressed enough as it is during the holidays."

He absently rubbed the pad of his thumb over his chin. "Can't say they're not a damn talented set of cadets...hey, I think I see your aide down there."

Spock's gaze appropriately wandered over the stage again as he considered Pike's observation, though his present view had allowed him to identify her in relation to her colleagues long before. She stood in the second row of females: the alto section, fourth to the right. Her dark hair was smoothed into an elegant bun while tiny diamonds shone from each ear, glistening with every slight movement of her head. Her undivided attention was fixed to the conducting Andorian Lieutenant.

"Yes. Cadet Uhura is currently the Chorale Ensemble's treasurer."

He closed his eyes, waiting and listening for a long moment before he discerned it--consonant with her fellow performers, yet different. Distinct.

Her voice was one of a kind.

"Mr. Spock, I don't think Ms. Uhura would be too pleased to hear that her singing put you to sleep."

He opened one eye to a questioning smirk from his superior officer but didn't respond.

Afterwards, they managed to spot each other in the crowded lobby. Uhura paused several times to give and receive embraces from cadets who had come in support as she made her way towards him. The barely there flush of her skin was not lost on him as she straightened the hemline of her black skirt.

"Commander, I didn't expect you would be in attendance tonight. I hope you enjoyed the performance."

Spock peered down at the program in his hand with a look that would be described as vaguely bored by anyone watching them.

"Despite the technical merit of its execution, perhaps "enjoy" is the wrong term, cadet. I found myself thoroughly engaged and even fascinated by it."

Uhura's smile widened. "Fair enough, sir."

"I will now escort you to your dormitory."

On the final night before winter break, the skies were cloudless while the temperature was predictably cool. The winter chill was exaggerated by the breeze pulling from the waters of the bay. A three-quarters moon reflected against the now-barren campus structures as well as the paved walkway leading to the dormitories, casting elongated shadows of the trees and benches which lined it.

Uhura was attempting to explain the audience's complex reaction to the ensemble's finale.

"Don't get me wrong; I think Mozart is brilliant. I can't imagine what it must have taken to channel such sadness into something so beautiful while on his deathbed, at that," she said, smoothing the garment bag in her arms with a graceful hand, "but the _Lacrimosa_ wasn't composed to draw positive emotion from the listener. To be honest with you—it seems really unnatural to perform it during this time of the year."

"Considering that its title translates to "weeping" in Standard, your thoughts are understandable."

"Yeah...we were overruled, though. Apparently Admiral Diaz is a big fan of that particular movement. He requested it by name."

They unconsciously drifted a few inches apart as a trio of cadets passed them.

"There are a number of ancient Vulcan songs which were initially commissioned for ceremonial burials. Their chordal structures are not dissimilar to many of Earth's requiems," he picked up moments later.

"Pre-Surak?"

"Precisely. The works have been preserved by my people as cultural artifacts, although no modern Vulcan composers specifically orchestrate to elicit an outwardly emotional response."

"I can see why, Commander," Uhura said. Her face turned upwards to look at his. "There's nothing logical about excess."

In spite of the topic of conversation, Spock's mouth curved in a faint echo of her expression. "I cannot disagree."

The remainder of the time it took to reach her housing passed in silence, but neither of them attempted to part ways once they arrived. Uhura didn't react at first when Spock followed her through the double doors, into the lift and down the dark, narrow hall of the third floor she resided on.

"Commander." Uhura's slight frown was one of consternation, he realized, as they stood a few feet away from her dorm room.

"Yes?"

"Why _did_ you come tonight?"

"I was invited by Captain Pike." She raised an eyebrow at his perfectly blank expression.

"He must've invited you last year, too, but you didn't come then...or the year before that. Did you?"

"No. I did not."

He hesitated. "I suppose I had no reason to."

The hands folded behind his back twitched involuntarily as Uhura stepped into his immediate space. The clean scents of freesia, peppermint and something all her own warmed him from within when she pressed her lips to his cheek and smiled once more.

"Have a nice holiday, Commander."

**Desires**

_Her cool exhalations soothed his heated skin; she was completely lax in his arms. Spock could sense her physical satiation and clearly felt his own, but a lingering, almost demanding need somehow still flowed between them. It was an unnecessary reminder.  
_

_He held the back of Uhura's slender neck and touched his forehead to hers. _

_*_

He stood before the large unblinded window of his office, alone, staring at the bridge hovering over the placid black water of San Francisco bay. Its wide, curved cables and glowing lights would never be truly familiar to him—after more than six years in California he still couldn't help but think of how nothing like it would be found anywhere on Vulcan—but the structure appealed to him anyway, especially in the evening. Indifferent to the inherent lack of logic in the exercise, he often meditated on the sight of this bridge before departing to his quarters at the end of the day.

Its stretch appeared endless from his current vantage, leading all the way to forever for anyone who dared take a first step. More precise angles revealed the connection between two defined points—a clear beginning to end, without exception. It did not matter if one who traveled it wished to slow the passing of their journey to savor a particular view or to postpone the inevitable. It was futile.

Irregardless of the traveler's desires, the bridge would never branch, sever or deviate from its lone path.

"Computer, lights."

The quiet office brightened until he could easily see the reflection of the polished cedar shelves, generic wall prints and matching pair of desks which occupied the small space. Once again, everything was in its proper place. Spock ordered the window blinds shut and walked over to her former work area.

He studied the barren desktop, remembering how completely cluttered it had been only one day prior. Blank PADDS, graded ones, instructor supplement manuals, elastic hair bands and little piles of honey packets stacked beside colorful mugs...so disorganized to him. She had nonetheless fulfilled her duties admirably in the four semesters as his aide and would be a credit to the Acoustical Engineering department next year.

The stars and everything they came with would follow after that...

Spock withdrew his suddenly balled fist from the surface. This was illogical. The trajectory of Nyota Uhura's life was no longer his concern.

Turning to leave the room, he hesitated when a bright flash of color on the beige tile caught his attention. He knelt by the left side of his own desk and brought the item to eye level.

Up close, he easily recognized the familiar earring—an oval, amber stone, half of one of the several non-regulation pairs she often wore. Early on as her instructor it had silently irritated him. Now it was simply a reminder of something else he never should have allowed.

After a long minute of staring at the piece of jewelry in his palm, Spock decided against sending it halfway around the planet to her home in East Africa. Such a small object could easily become lost or damaged in transit there. He would hold on to it until the next time he saw her, when she returned from summer break. In 107 days, 8 hours, 12 minutes and 32...31...30 seconds.

Three days later, as she led him down a worn, dusty trail through the African foliage with a flashlight and blanket in hand, Uhura asked if he wanted to sleep underneath the canopy of her favorite bur oak tree.

"There's nothing better," she promised.

When they tangled there, still moving in the midnight heat, Spock endeavored to show her otherwise.

**Link**

_Uhura slept soundlessly on her stomach with her arms and legs tangled in the sheets. Spock wanted to touch her again, to lose himself in her mind and body at the same time. The urge to initiate a full meld with her had become almost unbearable, ever since he chose to remain in Starfleet ten months ago. It was a decision he did not regret. _

_In that moment, a faint echo of discomfort reverberated from her unconscious mind to his lucid one—the remnants of an endorphin overload-induced headache. He rose from the bed, slipped on a pair of loose black pants and walked into the living area of his quarters, where he commenced a healing meditation projected solely towards her neural pathways. _

_He still couldn't fathom how he had managed to create this fragile, volatile link without even touching her._

_*_

Like everyone else on active bridge duty, Uhura operated on autopilot. There was no time for grief or shock or even savoring the last memory of her Orion roommate, smiling and so alive in the cargo bay. All she could do to keep going was work without emotion.

She was fielding another detailed stream of casualty reports from Starfleet Command when the first foreign wave hit her.

She froze over the controls, paralyzed in mind and body for several seconds from a numbness that was not her own. It had no material form but it was enough to weave through her chest and smother the air from her lungs.

And it was cold...

After a series of deep breaths, Uhura continued working at a slower pace, willing herself to compartmentalize whatever it was that just happened—she couldn't think about it then. Not when there was so much to be done.

The next wave was ice through her veins followed by a searing heat; the effect was like dipping her frostbitten body into scalding bathwater.

The two extremes pulsed to a mad cadence that was nowhere close to the beat of Uhura's heart, yet she felt it in her chest, her temples, every fraying nerve ending. The skin all over her face went red underneath the warm brown, although it felt cool and clammy to her touch. When her vision dimmed to a spotted mess of white she actually _wanted_ to black out...but then the painful fog slowly, thankfully receded again.

Uhura began to suspect what was happening. The alien pulse in her head steadied as she swiveled in her chair to face the center of the bridge.

Spock was recording a verbal report of the day's events, speaking of his murdered planet in a detached and efficient way which made it sound as if Vulcan had experienced a minor earthquake. The profile of his tall, lean form in Pike's chair was the same as it had been during the four years she had known him—in his classroom, his office, his bed. But he was different now; forever altered. Without words, a single glance or seemingly conscious thought he had flooded her with his emotional overflow and changed her as well.

His strong bearing sagged infinitesimally once his speech ceased and Uhura was sure no one except her noticed.

She ached for him. For his people, and Gaila, her entire graduating class.

_So much damn death..._

This time when the pain came, it was familiar because it was all her own. Uhura was so caught in the loss of her own carefully constructed barriers that she missed the nearly imperceptible shudder which echoed through Spock.

When he abruptly rose and headed straight towards the empty turbolift, Uhura's eyes and then her body followed him without hesitation.

She didn't know what he needed. But she couldn't ignore him any longer.


	2. Enterprise

**Pathways: Part 2/10**

_A/N: See below._

_

* * *

  
_

**Enterprise**

"Be well, Spock. Live long and prosper."

Spock repeated the customary words of farewell to the female Vulcan displayed on the screen. The comm unit then went black.

He stood staring for several seconds, outwardly focused on the sleek silver Starfleet insignia which had replaced her serene image. Per usual, he was considering the implications of the conversation as well as their previous ones with a fair measure of guilt. It didn't come from lying--theoretically, it was something he _could_ have done, quite dishonorably, though he never had and wouldn't start to. Perhaps the guilt came from evasion. He decided that if Uhura ever asked him for the truth about T'Prel, he would tell her everything.

_Logically, how would she know to ask?_

Pushing the errant thought aside, Spock made his way back into the sleeping area of his quarters. He shed his long-sleeved thermal before throwing it into the laundry shoot. As he walked towards the lavatory unit, his gaze drifted to then settled on her.

Uhura was so perfectly still in her unconscious state, he was certain she had scarcely moved the entire night. He was accustomed to this: she worked as hard as he did and only required more sleep due to her human physiology. It also meant there was a good chance her earlier pain hadn't disrupted her rest.

Her svelte form was sprawled in a normal, human fashion. Unremarkable. Because she was in _his_ bed, he found the sight unusually striking--_va__ksurik. _

When Spock leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers, he immediately felt her smile against his mouth. Her response was gratifying to him because it was so reflexive, without a second thought.

He broke their kiss to lay down beside her, trailing long, unhurried fingers through her loose hair, down the elegant expanse of her back and underneath the sheet draped over her lower body. He continued kneading her thigh even as Uhura used the same leg to pull his hips into hers. They both shifted until their faces were only inches away on the pillow. She was now wide awake.

"What time is it?"

"Not yet 0500 hours. It was not my intention to disturb you, Nyota."

She tangled the hand that wasn't cradling her own head in his glossy black strands and let her eyes drift half shut. "Too late."

Her words were softly spoken, but she was lying close enough that he could actually hear the rhythmic beat of her carotid vein. He slid his free hand around her neck and let his thumb rest on the warm pulse point, soon beginning to give in to the sleep he'd foregone all night.

"Not so fast, Spock," Uhura whispered, raising an eyelid, "you need to finish what you started..."

Half an hour later, he savored the final few quakes which flowed through her as she released a heavy sigh. The long legs which had held him in a vice grip loosened, and Spock opened unfocused eyes to see Uhura staring up at him with a mixture of satisfaction and remorse.

"You know I didn't mean to, baby," she said, massaging his throbbing temples with gentle fingertips.

"An illogical woman, will be my end," was his succinct reply.

Uhura's quiet laughter coupled with her ministrations sent another cool stream of pleasure winding through his body. He lowered his forehead to hers, sensing nothing except adoration, slight worry, amusement... and the tiniest glimmer of pain, this time an echo of his own. It was the first time this had happened when their link was supposedly closed.

"Nyota--"

"Don't. I'm the one who should be sorry, not you," Uhura interrupted with a small frown, laying a hand on his cheek.

Spock knew she hadn't literally read his thoughts—because they weren't bonded, neither of them were able to do it. She had deduced them from the direction of his mental prodding and emotional impressions, through his touch alone. It would've been comforting to him if it was not so unsettling at the same time. Like her response to his touch, the uncanny compatibility of her mind with his own was something that had existed long before their accidental link developed.

_Before I forced it on her._

Spock disentangled himself from her without a word. He heard her exit his quarters right before stepping into a steaming, blistering hot shower.

* * * *

Uhura stood in front of the fogged mirror of her own lavatory unit as she smoothed lotion into her bare arms. She was concerned, confused and pissed at the same time—Spock had always shown a talent for bringing out extremes in her personality. She just wished he wouldn't be so quick to shut down on her.

While he could close their fragile link on demand the majority of the time, it became stronger during physically or emotionally intense moments: often too strong. The mutual cephalalgia was one of the consequences and his involuntary attempts to meld with her were another. Those urges were much rarer than the headaches, but Spock had long before told her to stop him whenever he tried. It was something she would have done anyway.

She turned away from her reflection and stepped through the door.

After the discreet year they spent together at the Academy and an even closer ten months aboard the Enterprise, the idea of spending the rest of her life with him remained distant; an abstraction. Both of them had focused on their professional duties rather than addressing the issue of a permanent bond and everything it came with. Sometimes, she wondered if the unconscious transference of their emotions that awful day hadn't irreparably damaged their relationship.

_I know that he does.  
_

When Uhura knelt to zip up one knee-high black boot, the movement looked softly blurred to her.

Deep down, she recognized their shared complacency for what it was. Spock could teach a seminar on advanced avoidance techniques, but it was an unnatural place for her to be--it went in direct opposition to everything she believed in as a communications specialist and a straightforward woman in general. But she didn't feel right forcing the issue when they weren't even a year past the trauma which had induced their accidental connection in the first place.

Losing all that he had--and so violently—had crippled something in Spock. On the outside he was as controlled as ever, placidly, exotically handsome, never letting an errant flicker of whatever he was thinking or feeling affect his efficiency. After his altercation with Kirk on the bridge no one did or could have accused him of being compromised again. She didn't need the faint echo of his emotions through their link or his direct touch to see the truth in him, or his human eyes.

Spock's healing had barely just begun. For now, she was willing to let things be.

She tried not to wonder who T'Prel was as she finally left her quarters.

* * * *

Uhura had barely exited the fourth-level turbolift when a pretty Filipino woman intercepted her halfway down the bright corridor.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. Sir," the fellow communications officer said with an effervescent grin.

"At ease, Ensign Gui. I'm never going to get used to saying that to you, by the way," Uhura added with a smaller smile, swiftly falling into step with her.

One of the small consolations of losing two-thirds of their class in the battle of Vulcan was the fleet's decision to make the temporary postings of the surviving cadets permanent. Isabella Gui was twenty-four—only a year and a half older than Uhura—and they had both been active members of the Linguistics Club. Their schedules had precluded them from spending much time together elsewhere, but their friendship had flourished in the months after graduation.

"What brings you to the bridge?" Uhura inquired after taking a sip of her replicated latte.

"Actually, I was just leaving. Captain Kirk forwarded special orders from Command to the comm lab—we're definitely going to need you down there the rest of this week. I wanted to clear your absence with him in person."

Uhura groaned at the flush which had stained the other woman's ivory skin.

"In person? Really? Isa, _please_ tell me you haven't given in to Jim Kirk's tired game. Just do it: tell me I'm wrong."

"Do you really want to know?"

"No," Uhura admitted, because she already did. They headed past the entrance to the bridge and proceeded to the turbo lift.

"So what were the orders, Ensign?"

"Part of the Tau Klith project was temporarily handed to the _Enterprise—_the medical _and_ linguistic cataloging," Gui clarified, grinning herself at the Lieutenant's glowing excitement.

"Brilliant! I thought we might get a shot at it, but considering that the_ Olympian_ handled the first and second contacts I'm surprised they were willing to turn it over."

They entered the turbo lift and rode it down to the lower levels of the ship.

"My first year roommate is on the _Olympian. _Take it with a grain of salt," Gui said quietly, tapping a stylus against her chin, "but according to her their communications team couldn't handle it. Between deciphering such an oddly structured language and trying to interpret for the other officers they burnt out."

Uhura looked down into her empty coffee cup, her brow creased. She'd heard the same thing from a few different sources in the past four months since contact was made. "We'll just have to learn from their mistakes. Tau Klith is an incredible planet, though, with all that amazing plant life..."

She couldn't help but think of Spock's renewed energy whenever he returned from a particularly interesting away trip, dangerous or otherwise. His enthusiasm didn't need to be plainly evident—she had learned to recognize the subtle signs of his fascination long ago. She hoped this mission would have a similar effect on him.

They strode into the lab, where several officers were already accessing both written and audio reports sent from the _Olympian_.

"The only thing that worries me is the tactile portion of their speech, Lieutenant. There's no way we can equip the universal translators with visual interpreting capability on such short notice," Gui pointed out, scanning the rudimentary guide displayed on another Ensign's screen.

"Yeah, it's a bit like Terran sign languages. I've been studying Klith hand formations since the initial catalogs were published by the _Olympian_ crew."

Ensign Gui looked over her shoulder at Uhura.

"Live translation it is. Are you going to be the one to break up the boy's club?"

"It's up to Kirk, but I wouldn't be surprised," Uhura nodded, trying not to look triumphant. "For now, we need to have Scotty send some of his guys down here. I want to get the other translator modifications started ASAP."

"Done."

Gui transmitted the request through the PADD in her hand then commented under her breath, "I can't believe how excited you are about basically being chained to this place. If I were you, I would _never_ want to be off that bridge. Between Jim, Hikaru and our First Officer...oh yes. I bet there is plenty of visual stimulation to fill the boring moments."

"Unprofessional, Ensign," Uhura laughed as they sat down at the same multi-screened console and connected their earphones.

"Consider yourself hereby unauthorized to stare at Commander Spock."

"Whatever, Nyota. Looking is free."

* * * * *

Kirk stretched languidly in his chair, releasing a restrained yawn in the process before popping the kink in his neck with another sigh.

It was close to the end of alpha shift and they'd been busy poring over the information transmitted from the _USS Olympian _since that morning. Based on their fellow starship's preliminary findings, this mission would be a peaceful yet intriguing one—Spock's reaction to their impressive discoveries so far had been a series of raised eyebrows directed at his console throughout the day--but now Kirk was more than ready to make up for the sleep he'd been missing lately. He reached across his collarbone to scratch a fresh welt on the back of his shoulder.

_Not that I'm complaining_.

When he repeated the action seconds later he heard the quietest cough ever from behind him. He turned halfway in his chair, searching for the source.

"Are you well, Captain?" Spock asked, intently focused on the brightly lit screen of the science station.

_Of course it was him. _

"Oh yes," Jim Kirk said with an easy grin.

"I ask because you appear to be restless."

"Depends on your definition. If you think about it, restlessness can be a sign of all sorts of things," Kirk explained upon the first officer's inquisitive head tilt. "I'd like to say it was the result of commanding such an efficient crew. You guys make my job pretty easy, to be honest."

He could have sworn he heard a hushed snort coming from the direction of the navigation controls. Kirk met Sulu's skeptical glance with innocent, vibrant blue eyes.

But when McCoy sauntered onto the bridge and began discussing something with the half-Vulcan commander, he knew it was time to get serious. Those two had a strange way of tag-teaming him without even trying. He was lucky Uhura was needed in the lab, she probably would have shot daggers at him all day. Though looking at the back of Lieutenant Rookwood's balding head at the communications console was decidedly not as fun as the alternative.

"Alright, Sulu, give me an update on our status," Kirk ordered, crossing his legs. The helmsman drew the information to the foreground of his display.

"At our current warp we should arrive in Tau Klith's orbit in about three days. The ion storms in their upper atmospheres have been inconsistent for the past few weeks, so I can't say yet whether a shuttle would be better than transport for the landing party. Everything else is set."

"Keep an eye on that," Kirk pointed at Chekov, and the curly-haired teenager gave him a winning smile in return.

He was a good kid.

* * * *

After beta shift had relieved them of duty, Kirk found himself walking with McCoy and Spock to the officer's mess hall, thinking about the Lieutenant he hadn't seen all day. He had consciously avoided the topic with Spock while they were working—his first officer's sense of propriety would've kept him from saying anything, anyway--but he was genuinely curious.

"Hey Spock, I hope you won't mind Uhura's MIA status for the next few days. Her team is going to be working nearly around the clock until we beam down with our party," Kirk said, pulling a green apple from his pocket and taking a huge bite.

"On the other hand...she's coming with us. I'm sure you guys'll find a moment to reconnect planetside."

Both men in blue turned to face him as he managed to grin and chew in tandem, though McCoy's almost amused expression was in direct opposition to the Vulcan's even glare. The hands clasped behind his back fell until they gently swung at his sides as they approached the mess' coded entrance.

He eventually replied, "To be concerned about the issue would be wholly illogical. The Lieutenant is quite capable of handling her responsibilities whether in my presence or otherwise; the reverse is also true. I am confident this will never not be the case."

His dark gaze landed severely on Kirk. "And Nyota is not "missing in action." Her person is currently located in the communications lab, where she has been for the last 8 hours, 27 minutes, and 4 seconds."

"Such a sweet talker," McCoy interjected, clapping a hand down on the Vulcan's stiff shoulder, and said only loud enough for the three of them to hear, "It's no wonder Uhura couldn't resist your hobgoblin charm."

Spock's response to the doctor's ribbing was typical--silence counterpointed by a minor tilt of his head. Only Kirk noticed the pensive look in his eyes.

Days later, when he, Spock, McCoy and Uhura stepped out of the shuttle which had landed on the alien landscape of Tau Klith minutes beforehand, he also noticed the slim woman's sharp intake of breath. Kirk understood-- it was the same way he felt whenever he set foot on a new world, and it never failed to be thrilling and overwhelming all at once. But it was the Vulcan who expressed the sentiment out loud.

"Fascinating."

He discreetly placed two fingers against Uhura's.

* * *

**A/N: The set up is done...things get shifty very soon. Thank you for the alerts/favorites and most definitely your reviews, they motivate me! This story is outlined to the end but I'm writing it as I go (I aim for a chapter per week) so every comment really is considered. That said, this will either remain a T or will go to M depending on reader preference--I'm a bit torn honestly. It won't change what happens, just the level of detail.**

**P.S. Even if you hate classical music, you might like the _Lacrimosa dies illa, _it's great_._If you're ever bored, PM me for a link. :)**


	3. Tau Klith I

**Pathways: Part 3/10**

_A/N: I edited this chapter several times...then realized it was just too damn long, so I cut it in two :)  
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**Tau Klith I  
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The mid-evening sky would have been similar to ones found in certain places on Earth, except for its alien immobility. It flowed in gradients from a deep navy to indigo into softer shades of turquoise blue, where it suddenly met in steep contrast with the fiery sunset broken by the rolling mountainous horizon.

"It's like a painting," Uhura quietly remarked.

She angled her face towards the platinum-dotted black heavens overhead, then behind them at the forests of jade trees sweeping gently up high, smooth cliffs which hung over the ocean. In her eyes were tiny replicas of the bone-white moon reflecting off the softly undulating water.

Spock's breath left his lips in a cool, vaporous exhalation, but he could not disagree with her observation.

"It is exceedingly picturesque."

It was indeed a moonlit landscape of dusky tones and harmonious planes, although the lack of aesthetic warmth visually was amplified by the wind ghosting through the thin atmosphere and over his quickly chilling skin. It made him wonder whether only one extra layer underneath his uniform would suffice in such a climate.

As they were still standing behind Kirk and McCoy, he didn't protest when Uhura moved the two fingers connected with his up his wrist to feel the thermal undershirt.

"There are extra pullovers in the shuttle's storage."

"I am aware," he replied, catching her wandering hand in his own and gently released it.

She wasn't offended; her brown eyes sparkled in the darkness. "The weather—it'll be like this for the duration?"

"Yes. The planet's orientation is situated on a right angle in relation to its plane of elliptic; there are no seasons and we cannot yet be certain there ever were. Much like Mercury of Earth's system, Tau Klith rotates on a nearly 90 degree axis and as such their days last approximately 1047.5 hours. Their sun will not rise beyond the visible horizon in this hemisphere for several Terran months."

"Reminds me of Barrow," Kirk spoke up, still gazing at the frozen sunset. "My stepdad had to work onsite in Alaska one winter, and it was basically twilight the entire two weeks we were there. Kind of creepy, and we froze our asses off, but it was a nice change of scenery."

McCoy muttered from beside him, "I don't much like it. I can bet our Vitamin D stores are depleting as we speak. Good thing I've got hypos for that..."

The four of them had begun circling the shuttle, but paused when a pale figure in a garment akin to a multi-layered robe surfaced from the dense forest. His slow approach seemed to subtly sway in time with the wind. As he drew closer, they could see clearly that aside from his thin, eight-digited hands, faintly luminescent skin, and eyes—wide, robin's egg blue and completely lacking pupils—he was humanoid.

The male Klith stared at the quartet of officers without words with both palms outreached. Realizing that he would not speak verbally, Spock and the other two male officers waited in silence as Uhura edged forward to meet him.

She lightly placed her trembling fingertips on ten of the alien's while holding his inquisitive gaze.

"_You must be Noor. My name is Uhura, and I am most gratified to meet your acquaintance. We are at peace," _she spoke out loud while manipulating one hand to form signs Spock did not recognize.

He was already second guessing the _USS Olympian's_ suggestion to disarm upon disembarking. Despite their wraith-like appearance, he had surmised from initial reports that the Klith's potential strength might easily parallel that of any Vulcan, much less a relatively fragile human female. He tensed at the perceptible shudder which ran through her arms.

Kirk placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"She's safe, we've got her," he reassured, to which Noor inclined his head. He almost looked offended.

"_Your fear yes, no fear, one yes one. Noor welcome bronze mother Uhura past sun-life, welcome people come time twilight. Klith peace live energy, Franklin say, I am the light. Noor one you."_

Kirk and McCoy wore matching expressions.

"**_What_**?"

Uhura glanced at them without breaking away from Noor, saying in Standard, "He can sense your unease and wants you to know Klith live by the energy of peace; that he is one with us."

Minutely more relaxed, Spock walked alongside Kirk to stand on either side of her. The breeze was lightly whipping her hair into her face, and the Klith absently drew a dark lock through two fingers. The Vulcan had only one thought on the matter:

_Wrong._

Uhura followed, "He believes my coloring resembles that of his people's ancestors, when there was life on the other side of the planet and their sun had yet to scorch the land. The Klith call this 50-day period the time of twilight, when we arrived. He says again, he is one with us. Also--Noor means "light" in Arabic. Lieutenant Franklin from the _Olympian _gave him the nickname a few months ago when he couldn't verbalize the Klith equivalent," she finished, and withdrew her fingertips to step aside.

Spock continued to study her, now with muted admiration. He himself had gleaned less than 45% of her conclusions due to the limitations of their translators. She gave him a private smile.

"He wants to greet all of us, Captain," she added.

Kirk shrugged and raised his hands in the same fashion as Uhura had, but immediately started upon contact with the alien's skin.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, a look of wonder on his face until he noticed the Lieutenant's bemused glare.

"By the way," he amended, "my name is James T. Kirk."

_"Noor, James T. Kirk one," _the Klith confirmed. He gave a pointed look to the remaining two men.

"It would be impolite to refuse..."

Uhura trailed, directing the statement specifically at Spock and McCoy, who was watching with a suspicious eye. Inwardly, the Vulcan fully shared his wariness but decided not to allow his natural inclination to abstain from superfluous touch to override his curiosity.

And he _was_ curious.

The captain reluctantly let his hands drift down to his sides. At the same time, the other two men glanced at each other then offered one outstretched hand a piece to the Klith.

"Looks like we're in this together. Leonard McCoy of Earth."

"I am Spock, of Vulcan."

"_Noor, Leonard McCoy, Spock. One."_

At once, a jolt of pure, unfiltered energy surged through his extended fingers and up his arm. The sensation came with no latent thoughts, emotions or quantifiable discomfort, yet it was not quite pleasurable either. It felt to him as if a mild current of electricity was flowing from the Klith and into him in a loop, vital and ardent and potentially infinite.

"Hot damn!"

Spock raised a single eyebrow. "Captain—perhaps it is time to rendezvous with the other Starfleet personnel stationed here."

The sooner they did, the sooner he would be able to leave this place.

*

Noor had given them each an incandescent globe which easily fit in the palm of one hand, but also sufficiently lit the dark passage through the monotone forest of deep, damp greens and gray florals. He led the way with Uhura by his side—at his request—and the Klith was intermittently staring at her face and watching the motion of his long, multi-fingered hand as it fluttered over yet not quite touched her hair again. If she noticed, she didn't say anything.

Spock realized this was a combined result of her culture, training and personal patience. He didn't like it. His also knew his intolerance of Noor was most illogical; he appeared to be a stereotypical member of his race, compulsively open and welcoming even to veritable strangers. He was also the antithesis of a Vulcan, with his emotions freely given to anyone who saw or touched him.

Spock nearly missed the subtle movement of the vines on their right side. His hand started to reach for the phaser which wasn't there.

"_Spock of Vulcan, worry no. I am Bader, Franklin say, I am moon goddess. Bader Spock, one." _

The glow of their orbs under the canopy of the trees lit her in an ethereal fashion as the group stopped to face her. The lithe female Klith held out a hand towards him. He had no interest in accepting her greeting, and even a brief glance at Uhura revealed she was less than enthused at the prospect. Nevertheless, he briefly touched his fingertips to hers. The sensation was similar but not identical to the previous contact.

"Your hearing is most stellar," he evenly noted, as Bader repeated the greeting with each person.

_"Yes, no hear. Watch see cliff home, officers three hearing, moon see." _

"She and the others were watching us from the officer's dwellings in the cliffside, in the light of the moon. They were probably using an amplification device to listen to us after we landed," Uhura clarified.

Kirk was staring at the graceful fingers his were presently connected with. "Only five, like ours."

When neither Klith responded, Spock said, "It is a sex-related difference. Like many other bipedal races, the females have five-digit hands. We do not yet know why a number of their males have extraneous ones."

_"Kirk, eyes of Klith lovely, Uhura, bronze mother beautiful," _Bader said to Noor, who nodded and took the human woman's hand to begin walking again. When he raised it high in a motion to kiss it, Uhura laughed but diplomatically folded her arms close to her chest.

_"Cold," _they heard her say from up ahead, exhaling a cool plume of air.

McCoy and Kirk both turned to Spock. "Commander, are you growling?"

"I can assure you that I am not."

"You're a green-blooded liar!" McCoy was disproportionately amused.

"Let us proceed."

The now-group of five pressed on for nearly two hours, pausing every now and then to allow Kirk and Spock to leave digital tracking markers at certain points which would be revisited the next day by them and two of the other science officers currently planetside.

Despite himself, Spock was intrigued by the lush vegetation and the delicate warmth he felt radiating from them. As the Klith were exclusively vegetarian, diligent analyzing of the flora would be necessary to further understand their complex biochemistries. Collecting the specimen samples would also provide a valid excuse for limiting his interaction with the native population.

Soon, they encountered a well-lit cave-like entrance obstructed by a thick, kelly-green overhang.

"_Touch," _Bader ordered, stroking one of the rope-y vines, her hair a silvery wave in the dark. Kirk had been mesmerized by the female for the duration of the trek, so Spock was unsurprised when the captain replied, "Gladly."

"You will never grow up, will you?"

Uhura's tone was disapproving. But she was smiling widely as Bader carefully tore an oozing, verdant chunk from the vine.

"By the way, Captain, the Klith word for "touch" is actually "nourish" in Standard."

"And it _is_ safe for human consumption!" McCoy put in helpfully

"Enjoy."

While the rest of them passed through the vine curtain into the cave which would lead them through to the inner cliffside dwellings, Spock heard Kirk choke out from behind him, "Smells like rosemary, tastes like moldy spinach. Good to know."

***

Three days after their arrival, as expected, there was no dawn to greet McCoy's bleary eyes. Just the cool ocean wind billowing through the open stone window of the makeshift quarters, a sore back from enduring a sleeping bag on a hard floor...and Jim Kirk's grinning face hovering over his own.

"You look like you didn't sleep too well, Bones."

"You're an asshole."

"Meet us in the clearing in 30 minutes. Uhura's willing to try to get one of the mothers to volunteer her child for study again, so make sure you look presentable. And smile."

"Will do, Jim," McCoy said, then yawned. "Now leave so I have something to smile about."

The blonde man set a red delicious apple by his feet on the way out. "You don't want what they're serving us for breakfast--trust me."

Clean, dressed and ready to work, McCoy headed down through the dark passageways, out of the cave and forest into a meadow-like clearing with dozens of small, circular white-stone buildings this particular settlement lived in. Even in the twilight, he easily spotted the gold of Kirk's tunic in the doorway of one building a quarter of a mile away. He took his time walking there, noting how the natives who were out and about seemed to overwhelmingly favor earth-tone robes and bare feet. They kept to themselves, but their strange eyes were not unfriendly when they did meet his.

McCoy made it there in the middle of some type of negotiation.

_"Mother father yes, allow, child cannot. Child will harm." _The female Klith supplemented the statement with a pair of fluid hand movements geared towards Uhura, who was nodding in understanding though he figured she must have been at this for quite some time.

"She really doesn't want Bones to touch the kid, does she?" Kirk asked her, concerned.

"No," she sighed, "hold on just a second."

Uhura switched off her translator and spoke the native language directly to the frowning female. She pointed once to the medical tricorder and began blending her spoken words with slightly more stilted approximations reminiscent of the Klith's earlier gestures. McCoy began to wonder how the hell his team was going to be able to work without having more than one translator on site.

Once she finished, the Klith female handed Uhura the robe-clad child with no further argument and touched five fingertips to his outstretched four.

She said to the Lieutenant, "_My child, yes protect. Uhura stay," _and left the sparse room.

"Excellent work! Now that that's handled, I'm going to suit up and join the science team in the woods. Good luck, you two," Kirk winked at Uhura and left.

McCoy watched the exchange with a scowl.

_What am I, the boogeyman? Dammit I got a kid of my own._

He paid no attention to the slight ache in his chest. He studied Uhura, who was softly humming to the now-slumbering child as she carefully lowered herself to the wooden floor. The sight was a bit peculiar to him; he'd never thought of her as a particularly maternal or even kid-friendly lady in general. Then again, they'd spent a great portion of their early acquaintance with her foot figuratively and often literally up Jim Kirk's ass—most of the time, deservedly so. He grinned.

"You look like a natural, hon," he said out loud.

"Thanks."

She shifted both of her legs until they were tucked underneath her in a more comfortable position. "His mom did all the work, she put him to sleep just by touching him."

McCoy's grin melted into a smirk as he set up some equipment. "Little hobgoblins in your future?"

She didn't answer him, but the silent clench of her jaw managed to speak volumes.

"We should get started," Uhura did say after a while.

Without missing a beat, he drew the first of his specially calibrated medical tricorders from his leather bag and motioned for her to lay the child on the soft pallet before them, which she did.

"Alright, then, let's get to it..."


	4. Tau Klith II

**Pathways: Part 4/10**

_A/N: Borders on M towards the end. Also, if you are scratching your head at the purpose of the bad science/alien shenanigans...this is the final chapter in this setting, but what happens here will be very relevant later. :) This'll be my last update for a bit while I deal with some RL stuff. In the meantime, please do review--getting your input motivates me to write faster/better. Thanks for reading. _

* * *

**Tau Klith II**

McCoy sat back, staring at the instrument in his hands with a dumbfounded expression.

"And I thought your hobgoblin's physiology was insane—he's practically the prototype of a normal human male compared to this. Didn't want to believe those reports until I saw it myself," he mumbled.

_"_Is he alright?" Uhura's grasp on the sleeping child instinctively tightened.

She was frowning at McCoy, concerned, but tracing a fingertip over the boy's light eyebrows. The doctor gave a small sigh.

"Don't worry yourself over it, hon. Health wise, the little guy is great. His systems are functioning as they should. It's the endocrine activity that's madness," he said, still shaking his head. "Not even three years old and the amount of chemicals pumping through this little body, not to mention the rate of production...to put it crudely Lieutenant: it's a wonder his piss isn't radioactive."

Uhura stared down at the toddler's sweet, finely-featured face. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." McCoy nodded. "Same story with the adults. I just wanted this data for comparison to analyze back on the ship. Madness," he said again, the neutral brown and sage tones of the domicile doing nothing to ease his agitation. The woman sitting across from him was now carefully studying him.

"Len?" Uhura questioned, her voice tinged with suspicion. "How was Starfleet able to justify moving forward after the first contact? The Klith are no where near warp-drive capability; from a technological standpoint they're almost completely adynamic. And despite the odd rotation of the planet it's not in any immediate danger. How was Starfleet able to justify going forward after the first contact?"

He contemplated her thoughts for several seconds, knowing that she was referring to the Prime Directive which should have prohibited them from being there. After some time, he began re-packing his equipment.

Warily, he asked, "I'm assuming you couldn't get any answers from Spock?"

Uhura rolled her eyes as she gently rocked the child in her arms. "I'm a linguist, Leonard, not a telepathic miracle worker."

He slowly gave her sideways grin. "Smartass."

He grumbled, then sighed again.

"Dammit, I can't really give you a straight answer. You know, hon," he continued at the uncharacteristically hard look on her face, "technically I could get court-martialed for revealing classified information—even to a fetching colleague."

They both stood when the child's mother entered the well-illuminated room and wordlessly reached for him. Uhura handed him over, reciprocating with a smile when the boy reached out to touch her hand with his tiny one.

"You ready to head back?" was all she said to him.

"Lead the way."

They waited for the glass orbs they both held to glow before walking out into the chilly, starlit dusk, heading back towards the cliff barracks all Starfleet personnel were staying in. Normally these were the dwellings the Klith employed during the periods where the planet was drenched in constant sunlight.

"You know, I'm not just asking for my own curiosity." Uhura said this nearly imperceptibly, as they strode side by side underneath the fragrant green canopies.

"We've made good progress so far, but I'm already beginning to understand some of the frustration from several of the other comm officers. It's been difficult for them to prioritize their work without having more direction."

"Go on," McCoy prodded, to which Uhura gave him a surprised look. When he simply offered her his arm she took it, then heeded his request.

"The thing is, asking any communications team to blindly decipher a new language without indicating why certain areas should be given more focus than others...it's not unheard of, but it doesn't help when you're feeling pressured to move faster. Especially if the culture is so insular to begin with."

"Do you remember what happened to Admiral Pike?"

"Of course I do. Why?" she asked, unfazed by the sudden redirection of his inquiry.

He paused for a moment. "Haven't you wondered how the man went from being wheelchair bound to damn near sprinting within twenty-four weeks?"

"Of course," she repeated, frowning, "but then again, I'm not a doctor. I do know he received the best care anyone in the Federation could have asked for. Between that and his relative health I'm not too surprised his paralysis wasn't permanent."

"Possibly, Lieutenant. Pike's injury very well might've healed over time—a couple years time, not several months. The man's motor cortex was a mangled mess."

He pointedly met her thoughtful expression. "It would've taken something unearthly regenerative to induce such rapid healing. Something more than just a talented set of surgeons and the best rehabilitation facilities humans have to offer."

Uhura's eyes narrowed as she reclaimed her arm from under his. "Are you telling me they've been harvesting living material from these people to make _drugs_?"

*

Doctor DeCrist, the sole xenobotanist assigned to the _Olympian_, waved Kirk and Spock over where he was kneeling in the sandy northern outskirts of the woods. The auburn-haired science officer was staring at the tricorder in his hands with a satisfied smile.

"Captain, Commander. This one has the same molecular structure as the one we found in the other Klith settlement a few months ago."

The three men stared down at the non-descript, pale gray flower.

"And the time is right." Kirk was looking upwards at the sky.

"Fascinating," Spock noted.

*

"Hell no, woman! What do you think Starfleet Medical is, an intergalactic meat factory?" McCoy huffed.

"You tell me, doctor."

_Should've kept my mouth shut._

"It's the damn plants. Or at least some of them. They all look the same to us, but the variations are endless because their properties change according to the lunar cycles. It was sheer luck that one of the first specimens cataloged and synthesized was fully compatible with humans. Lucky for the Admiral and hopefully a lot of others by now," he elaborated without needing to.

Both of Uhura's finely shaped eyebrows were raised as she offered him a meaningful look.

"It's a trade, then. We get these people in the Federation to protect them from anyone who _would_ be willing to cut them up for spare parts."

"In a nutshell."

They both ducked through the tangle of vines blocking the cave entrance and the orbs in their hands automatically went brighter, adjusting to the deeper darkness.

* * *

Uhura found him standing on the natural stone terrace of his cliff room. Spock's lean, straight from was as motionless as the still-life alien sky he was staring into. To her pleasant surprise, he leaned into her chest when her arms wrapped around him from behind. She slid a hand underneath his fleece Starfleet pullover to rest it above his hip, over a swiftly beating heart.

"Nyota." Her name on his lips was nearly lost to the churn of the shimmering ocean below. "I trust you were successfully able to facilitate Doctor McCoy's examination?"

"Yes. It took some prodding, but everything worked out," she answered.

He laid one hand on hers. "I had little doubt."

Uhura pressed a small kiss to the nape of his neck, then laid her forehead there. She was exhausted. Though he was perpetually loathed to admit it, she knew Spock was as well. They'd had virtually no personal time together since landing, between shadowing the _Olympian_ crew before their departure the day before and putting together lists of potential officers to join them shortly from the _Enterprise. _Since speaking with McCoy, however, she was much less apprehensive about what needed to be done and why. It certainly gave her purpose there more clarity.

"You are content," Spock said to her, sounding ambivalent.

"I know you're uncomfortable here, but yes, I am. I can't change your outlook on the weather," she said with a gentle laugh, "but when we get the chance, we can keep each other warm."

"I would not be opposed to this." His tone was light, and their link was calmly benign pulse.

Uhura drew a breath.

"Spock..." Both of her palms were splayed flat on his back. "Who is T'Prel?"

She immediately felt him stiffen under hands, but didn't speak. She was waiting for him to.

A few long seconds later he finally stated, "She is the Vulcan healer I have consulted with, for the past ten months, regarding our unfortunate emotional transference and resulting empathetic link. As one of her areas of expertise is the rectification of the various malignancies which occur due to incomplete bonding, she has been an invaluable resource in providing me with minor methods to alleviate our mutual discomforts."

Uhura's entire body seemed to sink against his back as her arms came around him again.

"Is that all, Spock? I can't believe the crazy leaps my mind was making," she said in a rush, not giving him a chance to answer her query. "I had a pretty good idea that's who she was, especially since you still haven't told your father about what happened. Now I feel ridiculous for even bringing it up."

"Just forget I said anything, okay?" she sighed into his fleece pullover before releasing her hold.

Spock shifted to face her, lightly holding her hand in his own. She held her smile despite his overtly serious, more resolute than usual expression.

"Nyota, perhaps you should also know--"

"_Beautiful Uhura."_

A low, melodious voice echoed in the inner chamber of the cliff room. Noor had entered silently though he appeared to see no issue with potentially intruding on the two of them. Uhura gave Spock's hand a gentle squeeze. "One second."

She met Noor halfway from the terrace and listened with faint amusement to what was he was asking of her. Although he was physically adult and oddly attractive as well, his demeanor was open to a fault--almost childlike to her. Truthfully Uhura was grateful for this; while they were all open with each other, he was one of the very few of his people who readily interacted with her and the other offworlders with little hesitation. It was part of the reason why she didn't make a fuss of his frequent terms of endearment.

"_Fine. I will join you shortly at the bonfire,_" Uhura said to him, signing the last statement. The Klith nodded and left.

She glanced at Spock, who was framed in the moonlit terrace entryway with his hands folded behind his back.

"You're welcome to come, you know. Noor said that a few of his family members agreed to host a meal in honor of Lieutenant Franklin and the other officers who left yesterday. Kirk and Leonard are down there now so apparently we're the only ones out of the loop."

His eyes shifted away from hers to some unspecific point in the room. "I have no wish to attend, but I am wary of the male Klith's attachment to you."

"Please don't feel obligated," Uhura replied, a slightly perturbed note creeping into her tone. "Your supervision is not required."

"You do not seem appropriately offended by his blatant advances, Lieutenant. Perhaps direct supervision is necessary."

_What the hell?_

She refused to argue. "Good night, Commander."

"Lieutenant."

*

Her first impulse was to ignore him. She could handle the rapid switch between personal and professional—it was one of the few things which had remained a constant since the delineation had been a necessity, when she was still a cadet and the depth of their relationship had to remain strictly undisclosed. What Uhura didn't like was his tone and what he so illogically seemed to be implying.

Steps from the door she turned, her long ponytail swinging over one shoulder and prompted, "Yes?"

Silently, she waited as Spock calmly approached her without further indication of why he wanted to her to stop. It had been a long time since she actually felt nervous under his steady, implacable gaze, but the feeling was returning effortlessly as his attenton slowly traveled up her body, to her face, and finally lingered on her eyes. A compulsory flush burned her skin.

"Nyota," he evenly said. "Turn around."

Uhura didn't know if her annoyance should be directed at him over such a vague request, or herself at being aroused by the two innocuous words. She supposed it didn't matter at that point.

After complying, she immediately felt his masculine, radiant heat surround her. A warm hand cradled one side of her neck as his lips began to brush her ear and of their own volition, her eyes drifted shut.

"By any standard, your hair is quite alluring. Whether curled or artificially straight, it's texture is exquisite and creates a sensation of warm silk passing through my fingers and on my bare skin." He stated this while mimicking the words with action. "I imagine Noor the Klith would express a similar sentiment regarding this phenomenon, as he appears unable to resist from touching it. That is unacceptable."

Even as he had spoken in the same neutral tone employed for end of shift reports, department meetings back on the ship, he was pulling the tight elastic band from its hold, freeing her hair, allowing it to spill heavily down her shoulders.

"Only I am permitted this pleasure."

Uhura's anger was steadily giving way to the primal haze he had expertly ignited within her. She didn't want to risk stuttering, but was equally unwilling to let him think he could bring her to such a state so easily. She moved to face him so her back was flush with the stone door.

"Is that so?" she countered as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"Affirmative."

His eyes lowered to her mouth, and he leaned down to lightly nip and suck her bottom lip. "Tell me we are in accordance."

Instead of doing so, Uhura drew her arms around Spock's neck to pull him closer and he accepted her invitation. His first kiss was tender, achingly so; one that was given for the purpose of drawing her deeper into the fire of his need, a path she'd somehow never been good at avoiding. He matched the slow ardor of her mouth and tongue with his own, allowing him stoke it because she knew would gladly meet it. As she shifted to accommodate the hand which had pushed her skirt up and slipped between even thinner fabric, a tiny remnant of stubbornness still managed to push through her lust.

"What would you say..." Uhura let her head fall back against the door, closing her eyes again as she exhaled a shaky breath. "What if I asked the same of you?"

Spock didn't respond to this, but simply slowed the slick, rhythmic movement of his fingers below. She could not see him, but instead felt the press of his forehead against hers at the same time his lips caressed her own.

"I believe I was yours, Nyota," he quietly admitted, "before you ever even touched me."

* * *

Bader felt badly for Noor. He had been waiting on Uhura for several hours now. She found his enchantment with the human quite amusing, as she herself had witnessed his overwhelming shyness as a young boy--not anymore. She decided to ease his impatience. The female Klith accepted a kiss on the hand from Kirk, whose eyes were oddly lovely to her, and bade Noor to follow her back to the cliffside.

Once they arrived, they quietly proceeded up the rocky enclosed stairways to where the Vulcan's temporary dwelling was. A natural choice as it had been the last place Noor saw her before joining them in the festivities below. Neither of them could hear voices or discernible movement within the room, so Bader pushed the heavy door open a bit to peer inside. A curious sight lay before her.

The human and the Vulcan slept on their sides, free of garments, intertwined. Their faces were not even a breath apart—a pale hand was threaded in long, dark tresses, holding her close in slumber. One of her hands mirrored his, although the contrast of her skin with his midnight hair was not as stark. Upon closer concentration, Bader clearly heard two faint thrums, not in time with each other, but strangely, beautifully consonant to her.

Bader gently closed the door and faced Noor with ten outstretched hands. Ones he readily accepted.

"_Let them rest, monukh (_one who is mine)_. The fires still burn."_

_* * *_

The molten orange flames raged, licking loud and wild into the indigo sky. Thick plumes of smoke rose and dispersed around them, scenting the salty air with the sweet yet noxious perfume which came after one of the Klith had thrown a bundled gray bouquet into the inferno. Beside him, behind him and virtually all around other bodies were peacefully watching the ceremonial bonfire as if it were physically pulling their gazes to it. He couldn't blame them. Neither he nor McCoy had looked away for more than a few scarce seconds at a time. It had been the same case for the Lieutenant and the Commander since they showed up earlier that morning.

Any other time, he would've given either or preferably both of them grief for such a conspicuously late entrance, but at the moment, Kirk was finding it difficult just to breathe. The hazel-eyed man beside him scowled as he swallowed another cough. "Jim. Are you sure you're alright?"

"You worry too much."

"You sound like you're choking on a damn hairball."

"I'm fine, Bones."

McCoy looked at him. "Don't you think it was strange that they waited until _after_ Lieutenant Franklin and the officers left to hold a farewell celebration?"

Kirk scrubbed the side of his face with a dry palm. "Guess I never thought of it that way. That's kind of imposing our own social mores on an alien society, though, right?" he added a minute later.

McCoy shrugged, placing his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Good point." His eyes were lost to the fire once more.

"_Kirk."_

He turned around to meet the clear gaze of a pearlescent-skinned female. With the light of the glowing flames in the darkness, he quickly realized it was not Bader; however, she was a similar height and just as attractive. Her robe was more like a dress, draped over one shoulder and cinched at the waist.

"Yes?" the Captain asked, not wanting to say anything more and risk a potential misunderstanding. Uhura was several feet away, between Bones and Spock.

The Klith female made a series of hand gestures then said, "_Show, home walk stars, Kirk."_ If she hadn't pointed to the shuttle which was nestled into the sand 20 yards down the shoreline and then the sky, he might have never understood what it was she wanted.

After only a few steps, he could feel his lungs and head begin to clear. He took a deep breath without noticing at first that his three officers were shadowing close behind him, drifting from the fiery spectacle to see where he was going. When he pulled a slightly bruised apple from his pocket and took a bite, the female stopped in her tracks to study the object in his hands. She looked at him with glassy eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

Kirk was genuinely irritated. "Would you relax for once, Bones? I had the same training you did."

He slid the partially-eaten fruit back in his pocket, making a mental note to get rid of it once they were re-boarded on the shuttle in less than two hours.

They all watched as Uhura attempted to explain to the other woman why they couldn't share food with her yet.

"_Understand?" _

But the Klith was staring at him with a singular intensity, as if he had become the center of her universe and possessed everything she needed.

Her alien gaze glinting in the moonlight held the intensity of the brightest sun...

*

Spock moved.

*

As Kirk lay in the sand, choking on blood he was losing from the inside out, the last thing he saw before his heart gave out were eyes frozen in madness.


	5. Departure

**Pathways: Part 5/10**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, my hours increased at work. Next chapter is M. Feedback in reviews=a fanfic writer's only compensation  
**

* * *

**Departure**

_From his seat behind the glass partition, Scotty stared at the blood-soaked transporter pad. It was everywhere--Kirk was on his hands and knees violently vomiting the stuff, while Bones held a hand to his own forehead, trying to keep any more of it from spilling into his eyes. The doctor gave a low groan as he crawled across the wet surface towards the Commander. The only one wallowing in that morbid lake of red who had not contributed to its color._

_"Spock," he heard McCoy say in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Spock, you must let me see her." _

_Outside of duty, Scotty still didn't know him all that well. It was not so much a matter of avoidance as it was opportunity. While the Vulcan was staid, inexpressive and often downright square, Scotty lived for jokes, copious amounts of alcohol and fun times in general--nothing apparently ever on the other man's agenda. _

_Naturally it meant that the two of them never did find much in common. _

_With one unlikely exception. _

_He watched with clouded eyes as Spock seemed to pay no heed to the doctor's request, nor anything else at all, except for the broken woman before him._

*

_**3 Minutes Ago**_

Standing on the moonlit beach of a world thousands of light years from Earth, Uhura felt as if she'd been dropped into a nightmare.

Her orders had been clear: to enable and facilitate the ongoing communications between Starfleet personnel and the native population. To carry out the deciphering of the language in a non-aggressive, culturally sensitive and diligent manner. Most importantly, to do whatever may be necessary to ensure that any potentially volatile misunderstanding defused peacefully without injury to those involved. Uhura had never viewed herself as infallible, but she never imagined she could be capable of failure on such a scale. It left her numb.

Realistically, she acknowledged there was no way she could've anticipated what had just taken place; the female's descent into a feral state came with no explanation or even time enough to indicate premeditation. She had struck Kirk only once and yet that single strike had left him in cardiac arrest, on the very brink of death.

When Spock had snapped the pale arm which raised again to deal another, most likely fatal blow, the Klith had silently convulsed then promptly dropped in a pile in the sand beside Kirk. Uhura knew she was dead before her body hit the ground.

_"Flowing life,"_ Noor had told her on the first day of their arrival as they walked through the jade woods, tracing a slow finger from the middle of his wrist to the elbow and back again. After bringing the exchange up with McCoy, he'd confirmed that any severe injury to the Klith's arms would be the equivalent of a broken spinal cord for humans.

Uhura shivered against the cool ocean breeze, bringing her focus back to the present.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. She couldn't look at Spock, who she wouldn't have expected a reply from regardless.

Looking down at Kirk's prone figure, they both stepped back to give the doctor space to work.

To her, his skin had never looked so gray, wax-like. His eyes had rolled up in their sockets leaving only the milky whites exposed. And his body wouldn't stop spasming; as if it were caught in a human-sized steeltrap struggling to release itself. Her throat slowly constricted with tears at the sight.

_Keep fighting. You're not meant to die now.  
_

Uhura wasn't certain how long Spock had been trying to verbally address her before she felt his firm hand on the small of her back.

"Lieutenant."

The potency of the self-loathing leaking from his touch completely undermined his calm bearing and only exacerbated her own guilt. Without further prompt, he pushed her in the direction of the shuttle, the one place she could hail their orbiting ship without a communicator. Uhura had barely begun running when two vice-like hands suddenly gripped her arms.

She stared wide-eyed with relief at the familiar face of Noor. But less than a second later, a black wave of nausea hit her at what he said:

"_Vulcan Spock, murder Chand's monukh. Now Chand kill Spock."_

*

_Of course the last thing he wanted to do was look at her. Why would he want to see the ugliness of death settled over that beautiful face? _

_He didn't care that she'd technically been in Starfleet longer than him. That she'd signed up despite having full knowledge of its danger. None of it changed the fact that she was hardly more than a girl who was supposed to have an entire life ahead of her. A life which might've been very different from the one she'd lived until now. _

_McCoy drew a slow breath, knowing that that line of thought was a dangerous one. He swiped another damp, blood-and-sweat clotted lock of hair off his forehead and laid a hand on the Commander's trembling shoulder. _

_"It can't wait. I have to examine the Lieutenant."_

_The only way he could be sure the Vulcan had heard him was the sudden outstretch of his two long fingers towards her.  
_

_**2 minutes ago**_

"Let me go," Uhura hissed through clenched teeth. There was no relief in Noor's compliance, for Chand the Klith had already begun.

Her disbelief quickly descended to horror as the Klith's tentacled hand wove around Spock's left forearm and pushed the blue sleeve past the elbow. He proceeded to squeeze the exposed appendage until spurts of green escaped from in between his multi-fingered hand. The action was accompanied by a series of crunches, too loud to be anything except the audible snaps of bone and tendon and flesh. Uhura's vision went dim as the stream of emerald down the Commander's balled fist split into three tiny rivers and clumped in the sand by his boots.

Her voice sounded foreign even to her own ears. "Leonard. Leonard. Look."

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the doctor's head come up. "Oh, _fuck_."

"Commander!" he bellowed, sweat flying off of his brow as he continued to pump Kirk's chest with splayed hands, "Jim has an emergency communicator on him. He _will not _die on this godforsaken planet and neither will you. **Fight back godammit!**"

"Spock?" Uhura whispered.

When he gave no indication that either she or McCoy had said anything at all, the only explanation she could fathom was that he was ready to go; was prepared to succumb to a grossly premature departure from life for no other reason than to deflect further wrath from the aliens who'd abandoned their fires to surround them like pale vultures. Except for the one gripping Spock, they made no move other than their slow, methodical circle around them.

Uhura's confusion fled her with this bitter understanding. His inaction was so sickeningly logical that she felt stupid for not seeing it for what it was sooner.

Nevertheless, she searched his expression for anything, anything at all, that would tell her she might still be wrong. That he had another plan of action and she needed to trust his apparent ambivalence for the time being. She found no such indication.

Only pain, agonizing and raw, in his unguarded eyes...and a plea. Clear as day, she heard his voice enter her mind for the first time.

**Lieutenant Uhura.**

**My _vaksurik _Nyota.**

**YOU WILL DO NOTHING**_**.**_

*

_Despite the coughs which mercilessly continued to rack his body, Kirk shoved away the medical personnel trying to lift him onto a gurney and made his way towards Bones and Spock. The two men were kneeling side by side; like him, they smelled distinctly metallic, a stomach-roiling blend of copper and iron. Neither of them reacted as he desperately scanned their expressions for the answer to his unspoken question, the question he was not willing to verify for himself by looking more closely at her still form._

**1 Minute Ago **

"Wait."

The order had left her mouth before she even thought it. Despite the poisonous glare Spock shot her it wasn't one she would take back. She felt a hundred more pairs of alien eyes turn solely on her.

Uhura had seen more than she ever thought possible during her short time aboard the _Enterprise_. Some of the experiences had been less than pleasant, while others had left her with the singular feeling that she'd made the right decision all those years ago, when she informed her family that she would not be returning to university and had instead enlisted in Starfleet. Despite the hopeless situation she was now in, she held no regrets for that monumental decision. She would only do so if she failed to spare his life.

Uhura steadily held the gaze of Chand, the Klith directly in front of her. "_He is mine--a' monukh. Take me in place." _

She locked her knees against the sudden angry swell of the bond link threatening to knock her over. She knew there was not much time now; the combination of her own malignant emotion blended with Spock's was amplifying with every passing second. When she heard his voice again, she was only sure it had not been in her mind because his lips were moving.

"_End this now," _he growled.

Chand addressed her as if Spock had not said a word. "_Vulcan murderer will die if he speaks once more," _he smoothly signed to her with his free hand, then spoke,_ "Uhura invoke rite Q'aa'fulor'uxun. Uhura confirm." _

The barest tremor began in her fingertips but soon coursed throughout her body. This cold, stark fear was steadily overpowering Spock's anger and rolled over her as well, seeping back and forth between them with no end. It broke her heart to know she had brought him to this state, but there was no other choice in her mind.

Uhura glanced over her shoulder at McCoy, who openly glared at her with dawning terror of what she intended to do. This was what she wanted. If any of them were to leave Tau Klith alive, it would be because Kirk survived to override the lock on his emergency communicator.

The ensuing curses which flew from the doctor's mouth were of no concern to her as she focused again on Chand, whose hand around Spock's throat was curiously loose.

"_Yes, you are correct,"_ she stiltedly signed to him so that neither McCoy or Spock would understand. A light perspiration broke on her temples and all over her arms as she took a deep breath of air. "_It is the Q'aa'fulor'uxun I invoke. See that your mate has not died in vain. But you must release him to allow me to bear punishment for this crime."_

Her communication ceased when the pull of Spock's gaze became too strong for her to ignore.

He calmly ordered, "Lieutenant Uhura, you _will_ desist."

Hot tears she refused to let fall pooled behind her eyelids. Instead of feeling chastised, rage swept through her, coupled by indignation so strong she couldn't form the words to articulate it. How could he expect her to do nothing? To stand idly and witness his murder?

Uhura was not surprised at all that he was willing to kill for Kirk--their cocksure, brazen Captain would've done the same for any of them in an instant, _had_ done it on multiple occasions--and despite their differences, it was a trait she freely admired in both men.

But until that moment, with his eyes burning into hers, she'd never before grasped the enormity of what Spock might be capable of in terms of human _or _Vulcan emotion, particularly when it came to her meaning in his life. Their link not only throbbed with his white-hot anger and fear for her life, but something even more powerful than that. Vast, all-consuming and scarily, beautifully bright...a beacon in the pitch black of their bond.

This new revelation made for a stunning contrast to everything she thought she knew about him or their relationship. It only fueled her resolve.

**Spock, my _t'hyl'a_. **

**Forgive me.  
**

**_Rish-tor_.**

His roar of dissent and ensuing struggle against the Klith's hold on him served as a painful confirmation of the reception of her message. Uhura closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see anymore.

"_Take me in place! **Now!**_"

She wouldn't have known that Kirk had roused to life, or that McCoy and Spock had both been wrenched from their run towards her by another silent Klith.

Because Chand had finally complied.

*

_"She instructed me to continue to live despite the trauma of her departure. To forgive her." _

_Neither Kirk or McCoy responded. Both men were riveted to the sight of Spock's middle and index fingers as they hovered above her slim left arm. The limb lay contorted at a nearly perpendicular angle, glimpses of bone and torn muscle protruding from the bloodied skin at several points. As if repulsed, his pale fingers chose another path. They moved over her bluish lips, her delicately curved jawline, then finally laid upon the red alien hand imprint on her throat._

_Both of them froze when the Vulcan's dead eyes suddenly sparked._

_"Doctor. It is not broken. She is in acute sh--"_

_Nothing more was spoken by Spock, whose unconscious body slumped down onto the transporter pad next to Uhura's. _

_In shock. _

_

* * *

_

vaksurik (Vulcan): beautiful

t'hyl'a (Vulcan): soulmate_  
_


	6. Retrograde 2257

**Pathways: Part 6/10**

**A/N: ****A reminder; this fic (set in 2259) is about a year after the movie. But not this part. The prologue will clear any further confusion on the timing...two lines of dialogue originate from Khalil Gibran's beautiful poem _Friendship XXI. _**

_Edit 4/17: There were some missing words, that's what I get for uploading on company time :X Only this chapter will be solid M so the story is back to T (if anyone objects then it'll go higher.) Reviews=motivation to continue + better editing :) _  
**

* * *

  
**

**Retrograde (2257)**

The suburban domicile was modest in both size and outer adornment; a two-level structure of deep almond accented by white shutters, an empty vehicle port, as well as a thinly-screened veranda running the entire length of the property. But its position from the top of a grassy hill gave it an intimidating quality. Set far back from the road he stood upon and just large enough to loom against the backdrop of the low-hanging sun. Spock's thoughts wandered from the aesthetic properties of Nyota Uhura's home and to the woman inside, aimlessly pacing behind the curtains of the only window light continued to pour from...still oblivious to his presence.

Something like trepidation began to pull at his resolve.

Not of worry that the female may not be her--despite the distance between them and the change in her appearance since vacating his office in San Francisco, he knew it could only be her. He wondered what she was thinking in that moment. What she felt.

How she would react if she knew he were there, waiting for her.

He did not have to wait very long.

She stepped through the front door wearing only a short, fitted lavender halter dress with a pair of silver hoop earrings, a choice of attire which made his jaw tighten with an emotion he did not want to name. While Spock could not deny that the oppressive heat of Mombasa justified this choice, the garment highlighted her complexion and graceful form in a way even the immodest cadet uniforms never had.

He silently watched Uhura stride barefoot down the porch steps and into the sloped yard with a small bundle gathered in one arm. It took little for the neutral expression on her face to change as she finally met his gaze. She must not have trusted what her eyes were telling her.

"Who..." she trailed under her breath. Her soft, unbound curls swung in the same direction her head tilted.

"_Commander_?"

He minutely straightened his posture, uncomfortable with his own style of dress. The stiff gray uniform had been destroyed by the hotel's laundry service leaving him no other option than a plain white t-shirt and borrowed khakis.

Yet this triviality was not the explanation Uhura sought. The confusion in her narrowed eyes spoke clearly.

_How does one explain what he cannot comprehend?_

Spock chose not to try but to wait once more.

In the swiftly fading sunlight, Uhura's approach held none of its usual efficiency, nor the effortless veneer of confidence--perhaps it had fled to the same place as his. He tensed when she lifted a hand to touch him, (inwardly hoping that its path would not lead her to feel the frantic beat of his heart but suspecting her aural sensitivity would reveal this regardless). He said nothing to the ascent of her fingertips grazing his lightly stubbled jawline and closed his eyes when her fingertips spread against the side of his face.

The five featherlight touches searing into his skin should have felt wrong because they _were _wrong, just like the illogical urge which had led him there. Violations beyond hypothetical charges of misconduct.

Ones which infinitely surpassed them.

"Spock?"

He stared down at her face, mere inches away. Uhura's smile was hardly there at all.

"I'll never understand how we let this happen."

Spock took the hand she offered him, and they began to walk.

*

If not for her narrative telling him of things he wouldn't have known otherwise, Spock would not have been sure he hadn't hallucinated their journey beyond the quiet road. Uhura had led him through a stand of twisted baobabs and wild mango trees bracketing the uphill trail they had walked upon, identifying smaller, more obscure indigenous plant life. She'd fallen silent after stopping below a solitary bur oak overlooking the neighborhood development of her home as well as a small portion of the North Coast's skyline.

The imperious specimen seemed out of place among the delicate flora of African violets and various fruit-bearing bushes, but it was apparently one which held sentimental meaning for her. She had secured her flashlight in the crook of a branch and spread her blanket in the worn grass underneath it so efficiently that he believed she had done this many times before.

Sitting with his back against the solid weight of this tree, he was less certain of how she had come to be nestled so closely into his chest.

He also did not care.

Uhura alternated between grasping the arms he encircled her body with and tapping them to the muted swells of music drifting from the port more than a mile away, the contentment rolling off of her in waves. The cadence of her voice served a welcome distraction from the turning of his own thoughts.

"...I consider this my home, but I was born in the Westlands of Nairobi," she went on.

"Most of my maternal relatives still live within twenty miles of the city, so--my cousins were more like siblings, I guess. We moved away one month after my fourth birthday, when my father was offered a tenured position at Mombasa Polytechnical. A great opportunity that came at a bad time for him and my mother...among other things, she wasn't happy with the idea of leaving Nairobi. So she didn't."

Her head shifted slightly on his shoulder.

"Until I left for Berkeley I stayed here with my baba and spent long summers with mama."

Spock absently buried his face in her hair, breathing in orange blossom and honey. He didn't find it out of the ordinary to hear of broken human families, but Uhura had never told him that hers was as well. Although her pragmatic tone seemed genuine he had no wish to prod her for further details of this discordance.

"Do you recall your earliest years spent there?" he instead asked.

"Not much," Uhura admitted, turning his hand over in hers to trace the lifelines. "I do remember not liking the noise or the crowds. Being amazed by the height of the skyscrapers around Freedom Park."

The change in her tone implied her smile. "And I honestly don't remember this, but allegedly I also had a habit of kicking _anyone_ who tried to sit next to me on the subways or hovertrains...unless they were an offworlder. Then I would just ask highly inappropriate questions while my cousins weren't paying attention to me ."

For some reason, the image of a tiny Uhura doing such a thing involved little stretch of Spock's imagination. He raised a single eyebrow.

"Indeed. It appears you were always quite odd."

"Hmm....what? Spock!"

Her laughter was bright and clear as she soundly smacked his arm. Unlike their current position, this was something Spock was not unfamiliar with. He never fathomed one could enjoy being hit for any reason until she'd begun to, in the earlier days of their friendship, starting with the first time he had purposely and successfully tried to make her laugh.

"Maybe," Uhura conceded a minutes later, amending her attack with a tingling kiss to his knuckles.

"I did always love languages. That was definitely a constant."

She stared down at their intertwined hands; hers was completely eclipsed in size.

"You know, Commander, either of us could have done anything that we wanted with our lives, career-wise. Especially you. I can't decide if it was fate or irony that led us both to space."

With a cynical heart, Spock considered this. He himself had never given credence to the idea of fate and knew he never would; it was unquantifiable, grossly dependent on the subjective and ultimately rooted in nothing which could be proven in a logical manner.

However, he suspected a less literal interpretation suited her use of the comparison. One noting the glaring difference between the way certain events are expected--perhaps even supposed--to happen, and the often absurd ways they actually unfold. There was no need to formulate or analyze hypothetical examples of this in his mind. The evidence lied in his very existence.

Spock studied the winking coastal lights below them. The beat of the music almost matched the rise of Uhura's deep breathing.

"Perhaps we were both odd children," he mused out loud, holding her more closely.

"According to my mother, I was a content yet solemn infant who did not enjoy excess physical contact. This trait was not unusual with regards to unrelated peers or elders, as Vulcan children are not fully socialized until they become mobile. Yet this desire for solitude continued once I did. She often became disheartened at the long durations in which I explored the nearby canyons with my bestial companion, I-Chaya."

The air was not as humid there, and the symphony of cicadas would never be heard, but the present breeze rustling past them was not at all dissimilar to that of Shi'Kahr's low valleys.

"I cannot remember a time when she did not repeatedly check my person for injury upon returns."

"Who could blame her," Uhura murmured. "How old were you when you started doing that? Do not tell me only six or seven."

"I was not," he confirmed. "My excursions began at the age of 2.5."

Uhura craned her neck up to give him a severely incredulous look, but Spock simply shrugged. For the most part, he had gone unscathed--therefore he found the indulgences of his curiosity overwhelmingly logical.

"What about your father? Considering what happened to your brother, he must have at least been a little bit overprotective," Uhura speculated out loud after leaning her head on his shoulder again, pulling his arms back around her in a method which caused them to inadvertently brush the peaks of her breasts. His reaction told him the knit barrier of her dress was simultaneously a blessing and a curse.

"Only if you don't mind," she added when Spock didn't immediately begin to speak. He took a focused breath.

"I have no objection," he evenly told her.

"From a human standpoint, my father's methods of childrearing may have been perceived as cold or disinterested. I cannot say with honesty that I have never felt this myself, but eventually, I came to realize his apparent detachment for what it was; a gift. There is no greater honor for a Vulcan than to be recognized as a logical being capable of carving an equally logical path for their own life. My father privately disagreed with many of my choices, but he never treated me as less than worthy of carrying his name. I also do not believe he projected Sybok's failings upon me. For this I was grateful, particularly in my adolescence."

He felt no need to divulge anything further of that period; like himself, Uhura did not press for anything else.

"I like hearing that," she did say, with no pity in her words, and lightly nuzzled her face in his neck. "Though he sounds nothing like your mother."

"To put it mildly," Spock agreed.

"Where my father held me at somewhat of a distance, she quite literally, held me. There were numerous occasions I resented her overtly nurturing behavior, but I imagine she was often just as frustrated by my lack of reciprocation. I do not believe I have ever adequately expressed my appreciation of her unconditional acceptance."

"She knows. You were a mama's boy."

He felt his shoulders stiffen. "I am not unfamiliar with this expression."

He said nothing else, as Uhura reoriented her body so that she sat back on her calves, studying him. A curious smile spread over her face.

"You're blushing... and you are misunderstanding me," she softy went on, resting her hands on her knees. Her lovely dark eyes glistened with an emotion he in fact, did not understand.

"I can't speak for her, but maybe your mother's overcompensation was more calculated...in a good way, a loving one... than you realize. Given to provide a balance for your father's temperament and the rest of the world you lived in. Though if he _had_ been more like her, so what?"

There was a hint of challenge in her tone. "Unless you think needing affection makes you less of a man?"

Spock was undeterred by the accusation; this was a subject in which they had often debated, though never so directly as this.

"Perhaps not," he replied. "Acknowledging this as a need _would_ make me less of a Vulcan."

Of this he was positive.

The temperature was several degrees cooler than when they had first settled underneath the bur oak, but it seemed that nature was not mimicking the current state of Uhura's regard for him. She swept soothing fingertips across his temple and down his cheek, sparking those sensitive meld points one by one without even knowing nor trying to. He felt his own eyes harden for a different reason.

She kissed his forehead. "Think what you want. There is _nothing_ illogical about wanting to be close to someone who cares for you."

Uhura then slid a hand under his t-shirt to lay over his heart as she rained soft kisses all over his face.

Spock suspected her increasingly bold attentions were fashioned both to emphasize her point and stimulate to a deeper loss of control in him. He fundamentally disagreed with what she was doing; after two years of desiring her intimate touch he was loathed to ask her to cease. In turn, she didn't stop him from pulling the straps tied at the neck of her nape loose, but leaned into him as he lightly cradled her bare breasts in his hands, swirling his thumbs over the slowly hardening nipples until the small catches in her throat betrayed how he was making her feel. How he wanted her to feel.

He froze.

"This behavior is unbecoming...a disrespect to you."

Uhura shook her head no. "_And let your best be for your friend_," she whispered, "_if he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also."_

He knew the ancient text she was referring to, as they had debated its true meaning ad nauseum. The heat stirring within him soon surpassed the sauna of the night...and he knew he had been wrong.

Uhura slid her arms around his neck as his lips parted a breath away from hers.

"Go on, Spock. You want to."

He did.

*

Despite her straightforward invitation, Spock was nonetheless relieved to sense not even an ounce of hesitation in her kiss, the first one they'd ever shared. The gentle, warm insistence of her lips and then her tongue as he explored her mouth was arousing--painfully so. Yet it was her sweet scent that currently tested his limits. He wanted to ease this aching curiosity in a thorough manner, to fill all of his senses with the taste that belonged to her alone.

Uhura released a quiet sigh he paid no heed to when he broke away.

"Lie down, Nyota."

Because the gentle illumination of the flashlight prevented them from being plunged into the surrounding darkness, Spock easily discerned both the obstinance and confusion in Uhura's gaze. The blunt nails piercing through his skin reinforced it.

"To sleep?" she demanded.

"If you must," he answered, pressing her back into the blanket. With her body so perfectly aligned underneath him Spock was both unable and unwilling to resist stroking his clothed length into her center once, twice in anticipation. "Though I would prefer you did not."

Uhura had no further questions.

Beginning at the hollow of her neck, Spock began to map her glowing, sweat-silky skin with his lips as he exposed more of it to the air. With them he cataloged every dip, pliant curve and graceful plane, letting her sounds and the roughness of her fingers in his hair tell him when to linger in lieu of proceeding, where to use his tongue to amplify her response. He gradually raised up on his knees as he worked his way down, only needing to take the dress with him as Uhura had worn nothing more.

Her legs lifted for him without prompt and he slipped the garment off completely. She said nothing when he carefully placed her ankles on his shoulders. Squeezing a thigh in one hand while running sensitized fingertips on the inside of her other leg, his gaze traveled from pupils twice the size as they should have been down to the apex of her femininity. He swallowed.

"Nyota. I must request your permission...to continue as I was."

She slowly raised up on her elbows while lowering her feet towards the ground, then planted them to rest on either side of his knees. Revealing all of herself to him. Any belief Spock held of his ability to resist this final breach was struck false when his mouth descended upon her.

In seconds she was slaking his thirst for her body in the most primal way. He found it distantly fascinating that her fingernails ripping into his scalp was something he barely felt, the chant of his name on her lips nothing but a nebulous whisper in the midnight heat; every one of his senses had become deliciously preoccupied with an endeavor he had no wish to stop. It did not yet occur to him that this was only the beginning.

*

The sun had fallen below the hills a very long time ago. Aside from this, there was no way for him to measure what they had done and were still doing using the description of _time_; the passage of hours, minutes, seconds had been lost to him upon his entrance into her body.

Uhura had slowly sank onto him and set a hypnotic rhythm with her hips that he soon met with his own, roughly kneading the flesh of her backside as he thrust up and deeper inside every time she descended. The trembling of her muscles telling him sublime release would shortly unravel her all over again. Only this time she would take him with her.

The pleasure of their physical congress far surpassed _Pon Farr_ because engaging with Uhura had been his choice, not the grasping of a lifesaver within a sea of hell. Despite the rational part of his mind having spun off its axis, Spock realized he could never again equate this act with being the culmination of insanity.

Her touches were not burning him with the power of her lust, but her tenderness and passion. The pain she gave him with the clenching of her sex had been exquisite because it was fueled by his relentless invasion--one she had pled him not to stop.

Her resulting climax had not undone her as quickly as the one coaxed by his mouth, but its rippling strength coupled with the euphoric look on her face succeeded in claiming him as well. With a harsh groan, he had allowed himself to burst and spill within her before reversing their position to start again.

Then again.

And impossibly, yet again...

*

During their final walk back down the road, she had pulled her mass of curls into a surprisingly ordered style. His lips did not stop skimming her exposed throat, but Spock did tighten his hold on her as she sat balanced in front of him on the rail of the veranda. Her humming was low with contentment and exhaustion.

"I'm not ready for you to leave," Uhura quietly said, locking her legs around his waist.

"Don't go."

Spock shuddered in her embrace; it would be so simple not to.

"I have no wish to further delay your transport to Nairobi. Your mother may be begin to question why you have chosen to stay here four days after your father departed for his symposium," he pointed out.

"I know." Uhura slid one arm his neck and the opposite hand idly into his back pocket. He felt her entire body contract with surprise.

"Spock?"

She looked down at the withdrawn object for a strangely extended length of time, running her thumb over the tiny amber earring. Although Spock had learned more about her in the past several days than he ever had at the Academy, he remained unsure how to gauge the slowing of her breath, her softly welling eyes. The dawning sun seemed weak compared to the warmth emanating from her being. He lay his forehead against her temple.

"It was a logical decision," he breathed against her skin. Uhura closed her eyes.

"You are beautifully made, Commander. But it's your mind that fascinates me," she admitted. "I don't know what's going to happen next...I do know that I will always be your lifelong friend, Spock."

He could do nothing except hold her. To speak then would reveal a truth he was afraid to confront.

_Perhaps I would follow her anywhere. _


	7. Reaction

**Pathways: Part 7/10**

_A/N: A short one b/c it's outlined that way. Work has settled a bit but (TMI alert :) I've also been handling some serious legal issues for nearly a year now...and sometimes the stress kills my muse). For everyone who has reviewed/alerted/supported this story: thank you from the heart, you guys keep it going ^5_

* * *

**Reaction**

**1**

Ironically enough, repairing a torn aorta had been the least of his problems.

It would take little more than a few days of rest and limited movement for total amendment; like the fractured arms of the other two, the damage to Kirk's heart wouldn't be permanent. He would give almost anything to say the same for the result of what took place on the transporter pad.

McCoy swallowed the remnants of his second drink, as he stared at the prone bodies.

Aside from the steady, mechanical beep of the heart monitors, the only sound which could be heard in the intensive care unit of the medical bay was the fill and release of two artificial respirators. These machines were never used for standard recoveries. They were serving as the only things keeping the Commander and Lieutenant tethered to life.

He couldn't deny the cause if he wanted to--Jim and Scotty had seen it as well. A fresh wave of nausea churned through his stomach.

He still had no idea what to do.

"Leonard," he heard Nurse Chapel hiss a few minutes later, walking up behind him. She expertly wrenched the half-empty cup from his hand.

"Why aren't you in bed?" she demanded. "And why haven't you at least tried what I suggested?"

"What do you think!" The cool liquid sloshed over the container's lid as he snatched it right back, with a scowl.

"I've just finished an open heart surgery and two major limb reconstructions and now I'm too damn wired to sleep. As for your suggestion--it's not happening. Why?" he interjected before she could begin to plead her case.

"It's called the Hippocratic Oath: first do no harm."

Chapel wisely did not attempt to confiscate his drink again, but silently took the PADD charts from his hand to study them once more. She appeared just the way he felt: sporting a matching pair of dark undereye circles and a grimace that could make any Klingon recoil at first glance. It was clear he had not been the only one who'd just served the longest shift of their career.

Seeing Kirk shift restlessly in his biobed, she softened her tone. "Listen, unlike everyone else under your orders I actually buy into your theory of what happened when he touched her. But it's time for you to consider a higher law, Doctor McCoy. One of basic physics. Nothing we've done medically has even come close to bringing them out of their coma," she said, moving closer to the people in question while folding her arms.

"I doubt your inebriation will remedy the situation either. Maybe I should take it up with Scotty."

McCoy flinched as he met her gaze. With the two highest ranked men on the Enterprise currently out of commission, the last thing he needed to deal with was a mutinous head nurse--especially if he and Scotty actually _were_ too drunk to supercede whatever she had planned.

His cup landed with a wet thud in the trash receptacle.

"Fine, Christine," he muttered, not ignorant to the renewed vibrance in her aqua eyes. "Do it while I'm here."

She wasted no time.

Chapel wheeled the biobed holding Uhura sideways until it touched length-wise with the Commander's. She adjusted the hydraulic controls of each until they stood at the same height, lowering the inner guard rails until the narrow, thin mattresses were pressed together to form a single platform. Finally, she gently manipulated the half-Vulcan's head so that he faced the comatose woman beside him.

McCoy immediately noticed Chapel's suddenly anxious look, as she lifted her fingers from the man's temples. He walked over to stand beside her at the head of the now-joined biobed; the whine of the respirators only seemed to increase in pitch as he came closer.

"What's the matter?" he wanted to know.

"You saw exactly what he did, Leonard," Chapel replied, gripping a polished steel rail. "Maybe you should do the rest."

McCoy glanced at her briefly, then nodded.

"Fine," he said again.

He lifted Nyota's fully intact right arm across her chest and over her heavily bound one, carefully avoiding the oxygen lines and IV's. To focus to closely on the perfect stillness of her form since getting her away from that planet was something he still refused to do.

Instead, in a rare moment of tenderness, he gently squeezed her limp hand.

"You don't make my job easy, hon," he whispered, positioning her fingers directly against the pallid skin of Spock's neck pulse, "pulling him right after you into oblivion."

_God help them if this doesn't do the opposite._

**2**

"Computer. Locate Commander Spock."

"_Commander Spock is currently in his quarters_."

Uhura wrapped her arms around her knees, frowning slightly in thought as she rested her chin on them.

She'd lost count of the number of subspace calls from family and visits from colleagues she'd received in the 24 hours since being discharged from medical bay; while every single one had raised her spirits, her Vulcan's resolution on accepting no contact from anyone aboard their ship except for Leonard or Kirk--because the last thing Spock would ever do again would give Starfleet a reason to think he was unfit for duty, she knew--made her feel something she never had for another person.

_Hunger_.

His rejection hurt in a deeper way because of it.

Nyota much preferred loneliness, because solitude at least had the potential to bring peace. His strengthening presence in her mind and heart prevented this, as it served a constant reminder that physically he may as well have been light years away.

Burrowing into a pillow with her half-completed incident report in hand, Uhura continued to doze on the sofa until her chronometer alarm alerted her to the need of another painkiller dosage. As she took the pills with a sip of water, she thought of the transient nature of her injury, how the throbbing had already improved in such a short time.

How, in reality, she almost welcomed the discomfort; that pain was a shadow compared to the incessant ache in her head that stole her sleep and filled her with that unnatural longing for Spock. Blocking her from recalling anything that happened after waiting to die on Tau Klith and beaming back aboard the _Enterprise_. Making her wonder if there was something Leonard had failed to tell her.

"...Unless it was something Spock _told_ him not to tell me," she whispered to no one except herself, then stood from her sofa and slowly drew a crimson silk robe over her nightclothes.

"Computer," she stated once more, walking towards her desk's comm unit.

"Search my log for transmissions initiated by Commander Spock."

She knew that the odds of him contacting his father were slim enough without the unlikelihood of him doing so from her quarters, so she was surprised when the automated voice confirmed, "_Three records found in your log: transmission one routed to the residence of Ambassador Sarek, transmission two and three routed to Healer T'Prel of New Vulcan. Would you like to initiate a new transmission, Lieutenant?"_

Uhura hesitated, fingertips centimeters from the transmit button. If unedited answers were truly what she wanted, what better source would there be than with the woman Spock had been in contact with for nearly a year now?

"No," Uhura eventually decided, standing straighter, "I want to speak with T'Prel."


	8. Healers

_A/N: If you're still reading don't forget to review-only two parts left to go now. Thanks for your support.  
_

_ Impasse Pt. 2 immediately follows this chapter, if you miss the romance, btw.  
_

_ko-fu=daughter  
_

* * *

**Healers**

Months later, she would wonder what would've happened if the transmission to the Vulcan woman had been completed. If anything she learned from her at that point might've changed how it all turned out in the end.

For the moment, however, the only thing she could hope to do was filter most of the curses which threatened to fly as Kirk and Leonard strolled into her quarters-without request or previous notice, with no warning whatsoever.

It would be their fourth unannounced visit that day.

o

Uhura hit the disconnect on the comm unit.

"The hell, Kirk!" she hissed, swiftly pulling the belt on her short robe into a tighter knot.

"Since when did my residence become public domain? Why don't you save yourself the trouble and just install a few surveillance cameras instead?"

"I was right," Kirk said to the man beside him with a crooked grin, "she definitely missed us."

"I don't recall repeated breaking and entering being apart of standard protocol," Uhura went on, though per usual, the venom laced through her tone had no effect at all on the young Captain's impervious demeanor. She silently glared as Kirk easily deposited himself in her recliner while simultaneously pulling a fleet-issued mini PADD from his pocket.

"Maybe you should revisit your enlistment contract, Lieutenant," he said to her. "Section 7: Article 3.8. You'd be surprised just how much leeway my position gives me in that regard."

Looking to Leonard for any sign that he'd back her up had been a mistake-his expression conveyed more than words ever could.

_Officially overruled._

_"_Well? Come here, woman so we can get this check-up over with. For now."

"Hold on."

Uhura swiveled on the balls of her feet, her thick braid swaying against her back as she started towards the tiny kitchenette. She reached for a bottle of aged bourbon-a hilariously typical birthday gift from Scotty-before remembering the cocktail of painkillers Leonard had insisted on prescribing her. Definitely not a good mix.

"You two ruin everything," she loudly commented, filling a glass of water from the tap.

A short chuckle, then she heard Kirk call from behind her, "Don't sound so scandalized, Lieutenant. The sole condition of your release from the med bay was total bedrest, which you agreed to...and incidentally does NOT include boozing, complaining, or standing for extending periods of time-"

"-and in case I didn't make this clear on our last visit," McCoy interrupted less than a foot from where she stood, having followed her every step like a living shadow, "I'm not averse to imposing an indefinite leave of absence on you."

Uhura froze mid-sip.

"For a _fractured arm, _Leonard?"

"No! For that bizarre coma that had nothing to do with your physical injury and took the Commander the second he touched you. If it wasn't for Nurse Chapel you both might still be on life support." McCoy seemed to wait until she dared glance at him again. This time, his frown did nothing to disguise the worry beneath it.

"I can admit when I'm in over my head. You should feel lucky I haven't already shipped you to SF Medical to find out what's really going on. You and that logical, tight-lipped bastard."

Uhura felt the heat burning in her chest rise to her face as she turned the faucet off, the frustration with their constant invasions giving way as she contemplated what he'd just told her.

If he was saying what she thought he was, she'd been very wrong; he and Kirk hadn't made some misguided, misogynistic pact with Spock to withhold the true extent of her injuries from her. Most likely neither officer knew why Spock had deemed it necessary to sever all contact from her, nor would they have any idea of the way it had affected their empathetic bond; a bond virtually no one aboard the ship knew of.

The only thing to conclude was that they were just as in the dark about Spock's state of mind as she was.

She sagged slightly against the counter. Denying him the right to process his emotions however he needed to was something she would never do. Yet in her own medicated fog of fatigue and confusion, it had only just occurred to her that Spock's evasion with the Captain and CMO of their ship was twofold.

His unnatural silence wasn't simply leading their superiors to believe he was unfit for duty, but had left them in a position in which it they had to assume she was still in real danger. It was as if he'd _wanted_ them to watch over her like a hawk.

Uhura's head throbbed as she stared into the gleaming, empty metal basin of the sink.

"You honestly think I'm too fragile to make a comm call?" she wondered out loud.

"Maybe not. I don't know," McCoy shrugged.

With this, he ambled over to her desk, detached the comm unit from its dock and removed its memory, rendering it useless.

"The Commander and his Vulcan healer seem to think so."

Nearly dumbfounded, she stopped short of asking for an elaboration to look at Kirk, who was still lounging in her recliner, appearing as if he'd retreated into some sort of memory.

"What _has_ Spock said to the two of you?" Uhura asked him.

He didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to make room for McCoy lay out a clean set of regenerative hypos on the narrow coffee table between them. Another reason she hated these visits; killing the pain with meds did nothing when you were forced to stare at gaping wounds where skin should be. It was nauseating.

"Come sit, Nyota," Kirk eventually said, to which she raised both eyebrows, too surprised at first to comply.

He never used her first name.

Apparently there actually was a first time for everything. While the doctor wordlessly examined her arm, Kirk told her what he knew.

o

_The entrance to the quarters slid open without a sound, but Kirk still raised a hand to McCoy. Neither of them made a move from the doorway as they began to listen in on the quiet conversation within._

_"...is the subconscious bond. Fueled solely by emotion, acknowledged or otherwise. Lethal to your logical and your sanity."_

"_I understand, T'Prel."_

_ "Then, after nearly a year of indecision, you finally agree to permanent rectification. I can leave immediately."_

_A short hesitation, then so softly he almost couldn't be heard: _

_"...Rectification cannot be a unilateral decision. This will change her life as well."_

_"A given. Yet why do I suspect you believe she would favor your inherently illogical solution, Spock?"_

_"You will never know her as I do."_

_"Another given. Simply remember this: **true** Vulcan bonds must be consciously and carefully formed while both mates are in a healthy state of mind. There is no allowance for anything less, for anything less is infinite chaos. As you should know."_

_Spock said nothing._

_"Your silence is telling. Perhaps you are recalling my ko-fu. The agony she endured because of your defect. Tell me, Spock. Could you risk inflicting the same agony upon-**who are you**?"_

_Everything she'd said had amounted to little understanding for Kirk, including the abrupt question that was no doubt directed towards him and McCoy. Even yards ways he had been stunned upon sight of the Vulcan on the wall-mounted comm screen. _

_Like Spock, her speech was precise to the point of academic, yet it wasn't the timbre of her voice that had struck him as so disarmingly familiar. _

_It was in the deep black of her onyx eyes, the subtle downturn of her lovely mouth.  
_

_She had a perfect face from a different lifetime..._

_"Jim!"_

_But the female Vulcan was now staring back at him, pointedly. _

_"Spock? Is your colleague incapable of communication?"  
_

_If the Commander shared her and Bones' blatant irritation with him, Kirk never would have known. Spock leveled his impassive gaze towards the entryway in which he stood with a single nod._

_"Captain. Doctor," he led._

_"Pardon the interruption, ma'am. I'm Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise," Bones greeted, adding after a beat,"the mute one beside me is James Kirk, this vessel's Captain."_

_"I am healer T'Prel of the Vulcan colony So-Resh," the woman on-screen replied, then mechanically tilted her head to one side._

_"Forgive me, doctor. I was unaware Spock's injuries predicated violation of his privacy."_

_Non-plussed, Bones left the entryway to walk closer to the mounted screen as he drawled, "No offense ma'am...but Spock has an obligation to himself and his duty to mend as quickly as possible. It's my responsibility to make sure that happens—privacy be damned!" He folded his hands behind his back, now standing directly beside Spock, whose formerly impenetrable gaze now held the barest hint of something like amusement. _

_"Now, I can't pretend to have any idea what you two were just discussing, but knowing our Commander the way we do I can only assume he just refused whatever help you're offering as well," Bones finished.  
_

_T'Prel appeared thoughtful. "Astutely put. Perhaps as his primary physician, you should be told of his-"_

_Her speech and image abruptly cut to a blank screen. The bare-chested, stone-faced Spock finally turned to face them fully after lifting his finger from the disconnect button._

_"Perhaps while you conduct your examination, doctor, the Captain can notarize my official incident report. It is complete."_

_With this, Kirk felt his focus swiftly snap back into place._

_"Whoa, hold on for a minute. You know we can't send anything to Command before the Lieutenant submits her portion." As he spoke, he strode further into the warm, darkened quarters until he could see the PADD lying abandoned on top of one charcoal gray sofa arm. He picked it up. "Unless she already sent it to you?"_

_"No. She did not."  
_

_Kirk looked from Spock, who simply stared back, down to the illuminated screen of the electronic report._

_At first, as he read, what he saw there made him want to smile. The sentiment of this report had to be a joke, the result of some type of ultra-dry Vulcan humor. It was utterly incomprehensible that this could be serious-which of course was impossible, as there was little Spock took more seriously than his work. _

_Kirk cleared his throat. He noticed the way Bones was curiously glancing in his direction.  
_

_"Everything's fine. Keep going," he ordered. _

_The doctor pulled a set of tricorders from his bag and began inspecting Spock's biobrace's readings, working without further comment other than to ask, "Have you been taking those pain pills?"  
_

_"Unnecessary, as is your presence here. Meditation suffices."  
_

_"You agreed to sporadic monitoring if he released you from the med bay," Kirk countered, setting the PADD down on a desktop built into the north wall. The warm, spicy aroma of incense filled his nose as he came closer to its source-a thin burning reed from within an earthen bowl by the window opposite the desk. He took a deep breath; the effect was nothing like the damned burning plants on Tau Klith that had set this whole mess in motion. It immediately cleared his head._

_"We're holding up our end of the bargain, like it or not," he finished.  
_

_"Your concern is not unappreciated, though it is quite disproportionate to the severity of my physical trauma."_

_Bones barked out a laugh as he tested the flexion of Spock's elbow._

_"You were on death's door only 24 hours ago and we all know it had little, if anything to do with this. Unless you're ready to shed some insight on what the hell happened on that transporter pad?"_

_Spock lifted one upswept eyebrow, his eyes darkening as he looked away from the doctor. "Even if I was inclined to, I would not know where to begin."  
_

_"Of course you don't," Bones shot back. _

_"That's why you start at the beginning." _

_"Isn't that what you and that healer...T'Pring, were talking about?" Kirk pressed._

_Spock went pale. "Captain, her name is T'Prel." _

_"Whatever. I'm not asking as your Captain, by the way," Kirk forged ahead. "All I know is that I'm willing to grant you and Uhura as much leave as you need to fix whatever's really going, no questions asked. Say the word."_

_Spock drew a slow breath, lips parting a fraction as he exhaled. _

_"Jim-"_

_The distinctive chime of the comm unit sounded twice, and the moment was broken. All three men looked to the screen, which displayed an address originating from somewhere on New Vulcan. _

_"My father's residence. I assume T'Prel has broken her silence on this matter."  
_

_He waited a moment for McCoy to finish re-securing the setting of his brace, then turned his back on them both to face the still-chiming unit once more. Then he repeated, "Your concern is not unappreciated, though I would rather you turn your efforts to Lieutenant Uhura. She is not resting properly."_

_Kirk saw McCoy's eyes narrow as he folded his arms over his chest. _

_"You say that like you know it for a fact. Have you seen her?"_

_Spock's already fair skin flushed a sallow green, his gaze drifting towards the same earthen bowl curls of incense smoke dispersed from. The angles of his face softened a mere fraction in the dim light._

_"Seeing Lieutenant Uhura would be a highly illogical course of action," he calmly stated, still ignoring his father's call,  
_

_"Considering the mere thought sickens me."_

_o  
_

"And that's when I brought up what I'd read from that report. He proposed the deal right after. Tell her, Bones."

But she didn't want to hear any more.

"Len, please-"

"Trust me hon... I think you'll want to hear this."

Uhura forced herself to do that as McCoy gently tested the sensitivity of her fingertips and continued where Kirk had left off.

"Turns out the bulk of that report was a thinly veiled threat to have you court martialed for disobeying his direct orders on Tau Klith. Even if we believed he had any intention of submitting that nonsense-which we don't-he knew we couldn't deny the truth in what he'd written. But here's the kick: he agreed to destroy it on the spot if I promised Jim and I would check on you constantly, just like we have been. It's all he wanted."

In a sweet, somewhat twisted way, didn't it make sense? So why didn't the confirmation of his concern make her feel any better?

_Because, in any case, the thought of me makes him ill. _

It was pointless to even try, but if there were ever a time to try to vicariously get drunk; this was it.

"Excuse me," Uhura whispered, rising with a poise she wasn't even close to feeling. She returned to the kitchenette to retrieve two clean glasses as well as the bottle of bourbon before completing the circle back into her living area.

"I read over the full investigations report earlier today. I asked Ensign Gui to forward me a copy from the comm lab," Uhura admitted before passing the other officers the alcohol, then reclaimed her perch on the chair opposite them.

"Before you say anything, Kirk, understand that I needed to try to get a handle on why Spock might be acting this way. The thing is, there was no way he or any of us could have known that that psychotic Klith woman who tried to kill you was actually a healer, or that she somehow realized you were having an allergic reaction to those burning plant fumes..."

"Or that her people's remedy for preventing a slow death is by killing them outright. Backwards bunch, I always knew," McCoy uttered, finishing his glass in one gulp. "Pretty girl, healer my ass."

"Can't disagree with you, Bones. And you-no more worrying over reports, okay? Just focus on getting better."

"Fine. Captain?"

Uhura waited for him to look at her again before following, "How are _you_?"

That handsome grin returned, although something about it was less than genuine. The hand that wasn't gripping his drink settled over his gold tunic, exactly where his surgical incision would be-if he hadn't already had it removed. He settled back into the sofa.

"Like I just came back from the dead. Like I should _be_ dead."

He stared down into his empty glass, swirling the last few drops of amber liquid.

"Like I can't wait to pass this assignment right back to the _Olympian_ crew so we can get the fuck out of this planet's orbit."

Studying him up close, it was easy to see how the evidence of their ordeal had clouded his normally bright gaze. He must have sensed her silent observation, because he quickly added, "We're getting away from your point, Lieutenant. I think Spock knows he saved my life, regardless of the reason for their initial attack. Take it from me: the thing he's most unsettled over, is you. You cut it damn close down there-"

"That's not my fault!"

"It's not about fault. All he sees is that you would've been murdered right in front of him," McCoy bluntly said, "just like his mother."

Uhura felt the blood drain from her face. There was nothing she could say to that.

Arms wrapped around her body, she carefully to stood and walked over to the wide observation window on the opposite side of the room which revealed the vast, eternal midnight of space.

He hid it masterfully, but he was hers; there was nothing Spock could do to completely mask himself from her. No one would ever know how often she wished for the power to heal the raw, constant ache within him. It was the same ache she'd first seen surface nearly a year ago in the turbo lift and yet again seconds before her world had gone black on Tau Klith. It was the reason there was no solace in the realization of the depth of his feelings for her.

Not if those emotions were thrusting him back into the sorrow of losing Amanda all over again.

"Spock is a fortress," Uhura said two the men now flanking either side of her, also looking out.

"Sometimes, it's easy to forget how human he is."

"The Commander is more human than I ever reckoned. That's for certain. He held your hand during your second surgery, right after he woke up and we put you back under. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember. Anesthesia'll do that. "

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kirk peer over and down at her.

"How would you react if you had been in his position? How would you feel?"

It wasn't a question posed to receive a generic response; exhaustion only seemed to exacerbate her honesty.

"If it had been me staring down at what I thought was his dead body on that transporter pad, I wouldn't be able to accept any of it-that he was dead, that he had died to spare my life or that there was nothing I could do to change it. I think the rational part of me would shut down...I would want to go wherever he was."

She blinked.

Somehow the gravity of what she'd just said seemed to pull away any ambiguity about what happened. It led her back to a truth she'd buried down deep the second she woke from that dreamless coma.

_Our bond made it possible. Even into death..._

"Uhura?"

Placing her fingertips against the cold window, the ghost of a smile which had graced her lips disappeared as quickly as it had come. _  
_

"I was just thinking, of two summers ago. I had left this beautiful but fairly worthless earring in Commander Spock's office at the end of the term. I didn't even notice it was missing. He came all the way to my father's house in Kenya just to return it, so he claimed."

"Truth be told, I think he would follow me anywhere."

o

**Stardate 2259.23**

**Official Notice of Resignation: Exploratory Mission 3726 Tau Klith  
**

**Captain James T. Kirk, USS Enterprise**

**To the esteemed officers of the U.S.S. Olympian, I'd like to extend my well-wishes for your second tour on the intriguing world of Tau Klith. Your discoveries thus far have not only vastly improved the lives of those in similar situations to our own Admiral Pike, but have begun to foster the understanding necessary to incorporate this world into the Federation.**

**As you are aware, Admiral Pike successfully completed regenerative treatments utilizing Genesis-6, a compound synthesized from the native lunar flora. What was not known by your team during initial exploration is the fact that this compound in its natural state can become highly toxic for humans if ingested after certain chemical reactions; more specifically, after ignition. **

**The Enterprise's entire landing party—myself included—can attest to having exhibited signs of hallucinatory disturbance with an emphasis on visual and time distortions in the hours before an altercation which lead to the unfortunate death of a native healer. CMO McCoy's suspicion that I suffered from asphyxiation as a more severe reaction to the fumes was later confirmed by a secondary exam after reboarding the Enterprise. **

**Despite evidence to the contrary, native witnesses interviewed by this ship's security detail deny CMO McCoy's assertion that my cardiac arrest was the result of violence perpetrated by the deceased female Klith, nor do they admit to the attempted executions of First Officer Spock and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. **

**They allege that any action taken by their people was in the name of preserving peace. **

**For this reason I formally recommend your landing party remain armed at all times while planetside. I also suggest the accompaniment of a specialized security detail–**

Stifling a small yawn, Uhura closed the document on her PADD.

It was hard to believe only two days had passed since leaving Tau Klith's orbit for good, but every time doubt arose she simply re-read Kirk's communique to the Olympian. Incidentally, it was the only work-related document she was currently authorized to received.

It didn't bother her as much anymore. She knew work would come soon enough.

The number of "visits" Leonard and Kirk had made to her that day posed a dramatic decrease to only six, a sure sign that they trusted her recovery had permanently taken hold. Over 40% of her fractured arm and surrounding soft tissue had regenerated, while the strength of her painkiller dosage had been cut three quarters. The swift progress had convinced Len to trade out the cumbersome biobrace for a lighter, waterproof model which also allowed her to switch from sonic to real showers—the only thing that helped go back to sleep after waking from nightmares which were too alien to be her own.

A light, slow chill ran over her bare skin as she shed her robe and stepped into the shower.

Under the steady blast of hot water, it was also easier to fool herself into believing that the tears drying on her face, had never been there at all.

o

She hadn't been out of the lavatory unit for five minutes when she heard the computer's request to allow entry into her quarters.

After leeching as much moisture from her hair as possible, Uhura dropped the towel in the laundry shoot as she padded through her quiet bedroom to the quarters' entrance. She paused briefly to glance at the chronometer on the desk, and frowned. It was late...much later than even Kirk or Leonard would usually drop by for fear of disturbing her rest.

It made her think they might have something to tell her about Spock, who they had told her was for all intents and purpose, physically healed. She would never forget the look on the doctor's face after he'd admitted that Vulcan minds "knew a thing or two" about optimizing the healing process.

_If only he knew..._

"Enter."

Having expected to see very different faces, the small smile dropped from Uhura's lips.

"Spock? What's wrong?"

In a uniform perfectly fitted to his tall frame, with not a hair or even thread out of place, certainly nothing _looked_ wrong. He could have come from a shift on the bridge, in fact. Seeing him look so normal was reassuring and bothersome at the same time-it stirred the frustration with his physical and emotional distance, the unanswered questions about their tenuous, currently muted bond and what they needed to do about it, the ambiguous correspondence with the healer named T'Prel.

Most of all, the sight of him brought forth a piercing loneliness she could no longer ignore.

Then she _really _looked at him.

Saw the terror in his eyes...the kind of lingering terror which could only come from a nightmare one had fully believed to be real.

"What do you need?" Uhura softly asked him, though she already knew.

She let him in.


End file.
